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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24809893">Past the Garden Shed and Straight Ahead</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniespinkhouse/pseuds/anniespinkhouse'>anniespinkhouse</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cussing, Fae &amp; Fairies, Gardens &amp; Gardening, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Past Domestic Violence, Supernatural and J2 Big Bang Challenge</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:49:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>31,505</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24809893</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniespinkhouse/pseuds/anniespinkhouse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jared was a child, his mother betrothed him to a faerie in their garden. Now, at twenty six, Jared had his own tiny and rather precarious gardening business. When wealthy playboy Jensen Ackles engaged him to transform the neglected garden of his historic mansion, he fell in love with it, and found himself falling for Jensen too but how could he allow himself to love someone he could never be with? And could a quest really release him from his fate?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>173</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Supernatural and J2 Big Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Please admire the fabulous art by AmberDreams which brought my world and characters and life and leave lots of love on their post https://archiveofourown.org/works/24892420</p><p>Huge thanks to Wendy for running the legend that is spn-j2bigbang, again this year.</p><p>Many thanks to my many helpers who kept me on track, waved pom poms and made suggestions, including Fufaraw, Meus-Venator,  SylsDarkPlace, Merenwen. Special thanks to Wendy, Neal and Anne at Berwick Writers Workshop who help me along without a single judgement about the content I write. </p><p>* I am aware of the big spacing, this is unfortunately due to two reasons, one being that the same text was posted to LJ and it needs the extra space for that and 2 - the most important reason - so my old tired eyes can read it. </p><p>What a traumatic year it has been, it makes it being the last season of Supernatural so much worse. This little corner of fandom at least allows me an alternative world where the only thing to worry about is whether two beautiful boys can get together in the end! I hope it provides some shelter for others too. </p><p>Usual disclaimer: This isn't real. It isn't for profit. The boys are not mine but I borrow their fanon facsimiles. The story copyright IS mine. Please do not reproduce, repost, translate or claim any part without my permission.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>Being kind is not supposed to get you into trouble. </p><p> </p><p>Jared’s best friend and co-worker, Chad, would argue that it was generally the source of Jared’s troubles. Jared always blamed ‘the faeries’. </p><p> </p><p>This time, they could agree that the blame for Jared’s woes lay firmly with the mean spirited son of Mr. Spendlethift. R.I.P. </p><p> </p><p>Chad helped to load a ride-on mower into a trailer bearing the words ‘Padalecki Landscape Services.’ His angry blue eyes glared towards the home they were leaving. Jared’s business was no fly-by-night concern and he would never steal a penny from anyone, let alone defraud a recently bereaved family. Unfortunately, he had allowed a large debt to build up in the case of a frail pensioner who struggled to get to the bank. So now, Jared mournfully ran a hand over the t-shirt which Mr. Spendlethift Jr had thrown a mug of coffee on. It clung to his chest and dripped onto his snug fitting cut-off denims.  </p><p> </p><p>Jared sighed, “It’s my own fault. I should have mailed regular invoices. </p><p> </p><p>“No! He’s hustling us! Who waits for the entire garden to be mowed before asking who we are? He knows we’re legit but he’s too tight to pay. There is no way the old dude was maintaining three acres, like this,” he pointed to a perfect lawn and lush flowerbeds, “...without professional help. You couldn’t know he would croak before he could pay.” Chad might have been a good four inches shorter than him at six foot tall, but he had the sun-kissed hair and good looks of a sports jock combined with an attitude that spelled out he knew it, and a mouth that never stopped running. Their friendship was a mystery to everyone.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t speak like that!” Jared scolded. He gave up trying to wring coffee out of his t-shirt and peeled it off, revealing perky nipples and an acre of muscular, tanned skin. A young mum with a baby in a stroller paused to stare. Her cheeks colored as she saw Chad smirk at her and she power walked on. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s not like the old guy can care anymore. And admit it, his family never visited him while he was alive. You fetched his groceries most weeks, Jared, and I bet you didn’t get paid for those either. Huh?”</p><p> </p><p>It was Jared’s turn to blush. “Yeah, well. I’m screwed. I have no idea how I am going to cover the bills this month. I was depending on this.” </p><p> </p><p>They secured the trailer and got into the truck.</p><p> </p><p>“I bet your faerie wife could pay your bills!” Chad joked. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t!” Jared slammed a hand angrily on the steering wheel and shushed him, “They might hear you. It’s not funny. Don’t even joke about it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, come on! It’s a little bit funny. Everybody could do with a fairy godmother!”</p><p> </p><p>Jared relaxed a little, it wasn’t right to take his stress out on his friend. “A fairy godmother is a fluffy Disney concept. I could use one of those.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ooh, Cinderella, what would you wear to the ball?” Chad joked.</p><p> </p><p>“Crinoline and tulle,” Jared grinned. </p><p> </p><p>“I dunno, daisy-dukes and a bare chest seems to work for you. ”</p><p> </p><p>“But I want to feel special,” Jared whined back. </p><p> </p><p>“You would have to shave. I never heard of a Disney Princess with a caveman beard.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared tossed his head and ran his fingers through his shaggy brown hair, “If the Prince doesn’t like me as I am, then he doesn’t deserve me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, okay, Cinderella-Jesus. Our day is a bust. We should go for a bike ride and then drink beer.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared fired up his truck and pulled away from the unfortunate Mr. Spendlethift’s property. </p><p>“If we ever want beer again, we have to find a new client. One who needs us to work three days straight and will pay us by Friday.”</p><p> </p><p>Chad dramatically banged his head against the dash, “Like that is going to happen.” </p><p> </p><p>Jared sighed, he concentrated on his surroundings and he took deep breaths. This was serious, and he didn’t know if his little business could survive it. He loved his job, he loved fresh air, the vibrant green of trees in Spring and the stunning reds of a New England fall. He loved the snip when pruning shrubs and even loved the burn of his muscles as he dug compacted earth in neglected gardens. He didn’t think he would survive a week in an office, or lamely quoting ‘the customer is always right’ in some ugly air-conditioned store. </p><p> </p><p>Deep breaths weren’t working, so he tried something else, “Dogwood, Button Bush, Columbine,” he noted as he passed substantial, well maintained gardens in Ambrose Grove. </p><p> </p><p>Chad unexpectedly joined in, “Moose,” he said.</p><p> </p><p>Jared took a moment to process his identification then laughed, “Idiot!” </p><p> </p><p>“Fucking white moose!” Chad screeched.  </p><p> </p><p>And there was …a fucking white moose, casually stepping into the road in front of them. </p><p> </p><p>Jared’s brakes were well maintained but they screeched almost as loudly as Chad, and the trailer behind them swayed as it came to a halt behind the truck with the thud of a lawnmower trying to break loose. Thank goodness he always secured it, he thought, before returning to the other thought of ‘Moose!’. </p><p> </p><p>The moose stopped to stare at them - majestic, ghost white, and ethereal. Jared was sure that it stared into his soul with ancient wisdom and green eyes, but it had to be a trick of the light because moose don’t have green eyes. He thought he read somewhere that albino animals had purple eyes but he couldn’t remember.   </p><p> </p><p>“Is that even real?” Chad asked. “If it charges, the truck is wrecked.”</p><p> </p><p>“My truck,” reminded Jared, but it was a distracted quip. The moose was magnificent, terrifying and impossible. It was rare enough to see any moose in Burlington, but a white moose in Summer, in this wealthy suburb? That wasn’t right. For a moment, terror rose in his throat and his voice rasped as he forced one word, in a whisper, “Faeries.”</p><p> </p><p>The moose blinked brown eyes and turned away. It ambled to the other side of the road and stopped at the edge of community woodlands, to munch on an aspen tree. </p><p> </p><p>“Dude you’re obsessed with faeries. It’s a moose, it’s by the woods.”</p><p> </p><p>He was right, thought Jared. It was just a moose. A moose with rare DNA, eating what moose eat, doing what a moose does. They watched as it crashed through trees into the dark interior of the woodland and then it was gone from sight. Jared checked his mirrors, lifted his foot off the brake and started to move off, then slammed his foot back on the brake and the mower bumped again in the confines of its trailer.</p><p> </p><p>“Dude!” squeaked Chad.</p><p> </p><p>“Look!” said Jared. “Grab one of our flyers from the glovebox!”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” </p><p> </p><p>Jared pointed excitedly, to the side of the road, where sky blue forget-me-nots bloomed in clouds around the  dilapidated gateway of what was once a grand, winding drive.  A ‘SOLD’ sign dangled precariously from a twisted branch of willow, and, just visible through a tangle of overgrown trees, stood a movers’ van. He reversed his truck to make a sharp turn into the drive and they bumped into potholes and over tree roots towards it. </p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t know this was here, we’ve never canvassed it.” Chad commented.</p><p> </p><p>“Exactly. Must have been fenced off,” Jared replied, pointing out a mess of fence panels in the weeds. </p><p> </p><p>They came to a halt a few yards from the movers’ van and Jared leapt out of his truck clutching his flyer, without a thought to his unconventional appearance or what he would say. </p><p> </p><p>“Er. Can I help you boys?” The low Texan drawl inexplicably made Jared think of molasses and possibly sex. And if he wasn’t thinking of sex before he saw the man who stepped  from the house, then he was now. He had to be a film star, all firm and perfectly formed with blonde tipped sandy hair that begged to be mussed up, and plush pink lips that looked like they should be kissed. His clothes were casual-designer and his shades screamed ‘rock star’.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, um. Yes. No. Yes. I mean,” stuttered Jared. </p><p> </p><p>Chad came to his aid, “What he means to say is that we can help you. In fact, you absolutely need our skills.” </p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Even with the shades it was obvious that he was checking Jared out - toes to head - slowly taking in his itty bitty denim shorts and his heat-slick bare chest. Pink tongue poked between his lips, licking them to a shine before they arced into an amused grin. “And what skills would they be?”</p><p> </p><p>Jared suddenly realized how he looked, “Oh God! Not that! No …,” he flailed one hand to point at the mower in his trailer and shoved his flyer into perfectly manicured, elegant fingers.</p><p> </p><p>Chad dissolved into fits of giggles beside him and Jared blushed, mortified that they had rushed in without an ounce of professionalism. “I am so sorry, this was inappropriate,” he apologized. He turned to leave.</p><p> </p><p>The man glanced at the flyer he had been given. “Hey! Come back. I’m sorry. I was inappropriate too.” He stuck his hand out for Jared to shake. “I’m Jensen Ackles.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jared. Jared Padalecki.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of Padalecki Landscape Services,” Jensen read from the side of the truck.</p><p> </p><p>“Owner, manager and laborer,” confirmed Jared.</p><p> </p><p>“Seven o’clock then.”</p><p> </p><p>“Pardon me?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re right, Jared. I need an expert for these sorry gardens. Come back tomorrow at 7 a.m. You may want to wear something more suited to clearing nettles and thorns.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared blinked in disbelief, “I can provide prices, a competitive quote, give you a schedule of hours when we are available.” </p><p> </p><p>“I am certain that they will be agreeable. I should prepare a cash deposit to retain your service. Is a thousand alright?” </p><p> </p><p>“But … I have references,” Jared struggled with words.</p><p> </p><p>There was a shout from within the house, “Jen!” </p><p> </p><p>“Well, bring them if you like. I need to go.” </p><p> </p><p>Jensen jogged off, leaving Jared gaping like a fish after his exceptionally fine ass. </p><p> </p><p>They got back into the truck.</p><p> </p><p>“Did that just happen?” asked Chad.</p><p> </p><p>Jared fastened his seatbelt and started the engine, “I think it did.” </p><p> </p><p>XXX</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The next day Jared dropped Chad off at a local school where there were soccer pitches to mow and lines to repaint. It wasn’t ‘Better Homes and Gardens’ but it was a regular income for the business. Then, at five minutes to seven he rang the rattling, old bell at the Ackles house. If he had put a little too much thought into his neat polo and work jeans specifically to impress him, then it was disappointing to find a procession of workmen also pulling into the premises. Various foremen set about claiming Jensen’s full attention and he waved at Jared from behind of wall of them, yelling a cursory, “Jared! You know what you’re doing. Surprise me!” </p><p> </p><p>Now, Jared had a Bachelor’s degree in Horticulture and Landscaping, from Vermont University. It was where he and Chad had met and hatched their business plans. But in this case, he did <em> not </em> know what he was doing. He was unfamiliar with the size, layout and ecology of the gardens and unaware of Mr. Ackles’ preferences. Hell, he didn’t even know what sort of budget he had. He decided to start with questions that he could answer and progress from there. He gathered basic surveying tools, a soil testing kit, his camera and a notebook. Then he went for a walk.  </p><p> </p><p>By 11a.m. Jared was head over heels in love with an immense, neglected beauty, and trying desperately to remind himself that nobody had the money or commitment to embark on the sort of project he dreamed of. There was so much potential here but he knew there were always compromises. Most homeowners satisfied themselves with a little tree surgery, a bland lawn and some showy flowers. It was going to break his heart. </p><p> </p><p>He came across a small orchard and set about cataloging twenty-eight lichen-clad trees. He scowled on encountering several neat rings of Chanterelle mushrooms beneath them. He stepped carefully around the outer edge of each ring with a sense of dread. </p><p> </p><p>“Is it very bad? The lichen?” Ackles’ sudden appearance made him jump. </p><p> </p><p>Today, Jared was going to be the very example of a professional, “Good morning, Mr. Ackles, I didn’t hear you approach. Lichen is not a problem, it isn’t a parasite, but it tells me that these trees are not in peak condition. If you want to keep them, then we can work on that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Please, I’ve seen you virtually undressed. I was hoping we were past the point of surnames. Call me Jensen. Can I call you Jared?”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded, “Of course, Jensen.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good. Well, do you think we should keep these trees?” </p><p> </p><p>Jared reined in his own hopes for the gardens and gave a considered answer, “It depends on your lifestyle and how you intend to use the grounds, and then of course, what your timelines and budget are. There are maintenance and safety considerations associated with all your choices. An orchard is a wonderful ecosystem, a feature, and source of fresh fruit. It can be a good place for children to play and learn but it requires regular maintenance, and supervision of young family members. It would support a plethora of wildlife, including pollinators but it will also attract wasps, which is natural and necessary but …” he trailed off, sure he was rambling like an idiot. </p><p> </p><p>“Yellowjackets are no fun around kids,” Jensen finished for him, with a grin. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, that sort of thing.” He placed a hand on the gnarled trunk of a pear tree and looked up into its branches. “There’s some tree surgery needed but all things considered, it’s not excessive.”</p><p> </p><p>“And these mushrooms?” Jensen kicked his foot at one of the Chanterelle rings. “Do we need to poison them before they poison us?”</p><p> </p><p>Jared couldn’t help himself, his own foot kicked out and connected with Jensen’s very expensive looking sneaker, “No.” he said in horror, then, with sinking realization of what he had just done, he tried to control the damage, “Sorry, if you don’t like them then you shouldn’t kick them. It could spread their spores and make it worse.” </p><p> </p><p>Jensen now pushed his shades up onto his head and looked intently at Jared with wide green and long-lashed eyes. “Right. And you feel strongly about that?” </p><p> </p><p>His eyes were very pretty, thought Jared, and it was enough of a distraction to prevent a full meltdown because he had just kicked the one person who could prevent the demise of his business. “I guess,” he answered carefully, “But they have a job and once they achieve it, they decline naturally. This particular variety is a tasty edible mushroom so you can harvest them, assuming you have someone experienced in identification. And I do mean <em> experienced </em>. You don’t want to mistake a Jack O’ Lantern for one of these beauties.” He drew a line across his neck in a death parody.</p><p> </p><p>Jensen’s mouth widened into a smile and he gave a full bodied guffaw. “Oh, my. That <em> would </em> be unfortunate.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yup,” confirmed Jared. He could rattle on about nature all day and he thought he could look at Jensen smiling all day too. </p><p> </p><p>“And here I was, thinking you might be scared that faeiries would get us.” He made a circular gesture to mimic a faerie ring. </p><p> </p><p>Jared’s stomach gave a familiar nauseous wobble, “Well, I suppose, if faeiries were to exist, you wouldn’t want to piss them off.” His offhand answer was given with practised ease, his discomfort readily disguised. First rule of the Padalecki family: Do not discuss the fae with strangers. </p><p> </p><p>“Well then - coffee!” declared Jensen, changing the subject. “I kinda left you hanging this morning. I should have scheduled everyone to arrive at different times, but I’m an idiot. We can go into town, transfer your initial deposit from my bank account to yours, and then head into a coffee shop to discuss the gardens. Does that sound fair?”</p><p> </p><p>“It sounds perfect,” said Jared and he didn’t know if he was talking about the prospect of earning money, the meeting, or the sound of Jensen’s voice. </p><p> </p><p>Jensen leaned into Jared’s space and spoke in a hushed, conspiratorial tone, “We’ll take my ride, it’s a unicorn.”</p><p> </p><p>xxx</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jared had to agree, Jensen’s ride was as close to a unicorn as he would get. The interior of his mint condition 1967 Chevy Impala smelled of leather, wood polish and Jensen’s cologne, while the exterior gleamed with mirror finish. The purr of the engine held the promise of a wildcat, and a whirling breeze from the rolled-down window whipped through his hair to cool the heat of the  sun. Chad would not believe him, and if he did, his jealousy would know no bounds. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, okay, it’s a unicorn,” he reluctantly agreed, and Jensen fist-pumped the air. It felt like a day trip with a buddy he had known for years rather than a business trip, and it was a little disconcerting.</p><p> </p><p>In an odd coincidence, they both banked with the local Alwyn Mutual Bank. Jared explained several times, that he did not expect to be paid any sort of retainer in advance - he would invoice for work completed. Jensen argued that he would not entertain such an arrangement. There would be wages to pay, equipment to hire, plants and seeds to purchase. Jared would present his weekly bill and it would be honoured, but, in the event that Jensen was not able to approve a purchase, the retainer would be used. Jared would have continued the argument but their bank manager, who he had begged for numerous short-term overdrafts, shot him a blatant ‘Shut up, Mr. Padalecki!’ glance. He shut up and rolled with it, resolving to keep an iron grip on his accounts. There would be no recurrence of the Spendlethift debacle.</p><p> </p><p>Jensen asked for recommendations for a light lunch and Jared suggested the Pavilion Cafe in the municipal park. The surroundings were pleasant and they made great salads and light lunches at a price that Jared could afford. It wouldn’t be busy on a weekday so they could talk uninterrupted. </p><p> </p><p>Lisa, the barista and an old school friend of Jared’s, greeted them and raised her eyebrows at Jensen in silent question to Jared. He beat her hopes down, introducing Jensen as new to the area and a new client, and they would sit at a quiet booth so they could talk business. </p><p> </p><p>Jensen turned a million watt smile on Lisa, “It’s not quite true,” he said, “I am actually returning to the area after a long absence, but with all the changes, it does feel new to me. He offered his hand to shake hers, “Charmed to meet you.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared watched their interaction with narrowing eyes. He wasn’t jealous. He couldn’t be jealous. He barely knew the guy. In fact, with that Texan drawl, he hadn’t even known that he was a Burlington native. Even if it did feel like an itch of jealousy he was not going to scratch that itch. He could shake it off. “With that accent, I would have guessed Houston,” he commented. </p><p> </p><p>“My mother took up and went a searchin’ for Bigfoot Wallace when I was a kid. She found a few Bigfoots, but none of ‘em were a fairy tale,” Jensen joked. “She still operates out of Austin but these days the fairy tales are for other people. The place on Ambrose Grove has some family connections for me, a great, great aunt, so I looked it up when I decided to move back. Story goes that she longed to be the lady of the house. And she charmed the young man of the house, married him and made their home a sparkling beacon of society. Far as I can tell, their marriage soured quickly and the hospitality was a sham, but the old house never deserved to fall into it’s current state of disrepair.” He shrugged, “So now I’m following my own dream. Except, I decided to renovate the house first, and work on love, after.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared glanced at his face, looking for signs that Jensen was spinning a tale but there were none, “Aw, that’s  romantic,” he replied in the end.</p><p> </p><p>Jensen scrunched his nose up in disgust and Jared couldn’t help noticing that the smattering of freckles that scrunched with it. It was adorable. He thought he might say something else but Lisa interrupted with customer patter and coffee that frothed at the rim. He watched Jensen’s face light back up in an instant, to give her his full, flirtatious attention, and she promised to bring their food to their table. </p><p> </p><p>As they navigated to a quiet booth, an old lady gathered her belongings to leave. She dropped her hat and Jensen dipped gracefully to collect it. He presented it to her, all smiles and old fashioned chivalry. Oh, yes, it was becoming obvious that Jensen could charm birds from the trees and Jared knew that charming men were trouble. It was another reason to keep his distance.</p><p> </p><p>Jensen opened the conversation. “I am going to save you some trouble. Before you tell me what you think I am going to do with my gardens, and before you form any accurate or wildly inaccurate opinions of me, I am going to tell you about me - the good, the bad and the awful.” He stared at him over his cup. </p><p> </p><p>Jared could admit to being blindsided, “Um. Okay. I mean, I don’t need to know anything. It’s not my business. I wasn’t going to gossip.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know, but as you rightly told me, the way I live my life will affect how I use my gardens.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well yes, but...” </p><p> </p><p>“I am 29 years old. I have a Masters in Business and Marketing and I am a spoilt-ass trust fund kid. My mother leads a fortunate life like her parents, and like theirs before them. You get it? With careful management, fortune accumulates fortune, accumulates fortune. It’s not like I never earned my own money - my momma thought I was a cute kid, so I modeled for fashion catalogs. Should you discover a young me rocking brick pattern pants or dinosaur pajamas, then I would thank you never to bring it up. There are good reasons why I chose not to continue it.” </p><p> </p><p>Jared fought not to laugh at the mental image of sweet-little-kid-Jensen, moodily posing in PJs, instead he blew the froth off his caramel cappuccino, and the leaf image, that Lisa had so carefully drawn in it, smudged and disappeared. “You totally could though,” he complimented. </p><p> </p><p>“Maybe, but some of those guys…” Jensen pointed his teaspoon at Jared, “Uck!” </p><p> </p><p>Jared’s smile disappeared, “There are always rumors in the media. Ew. Was it...were you?”</p><p> </p><p>“My mother would have destroyed them. Nothing ever happened and it’s not the reason why I am gay.” He glanced at Jared who was trying to keep up with all his honesty without choking on his coffee. “Which, I am. One hundred percent gay with no boyfriend at present. Which is not to say that there will not be children playing in the gardens of my home, I have family and a social life, there will definitely be children.” </p><p> </p><p>“That’s not a problem, not at all,” Jared reassured.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t have a proper job because I don’t need one. Instead, I swan from lunch date to dinner dance in search of other grotesquely fortunate people, to wrangle funds from their fat offshore accounts, into a registered charity close to my heart. I have the dubious title of ‘Ambassador’. In reality I am nothing but a free-loader and cash-charmer. My smile is a lie, Jared.” He gave a cheeky grin. “Not this one, this one is only for you.”</p><p> </p><p>“It sounds like work to me.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re too kind, Jared. No prejudices lurking?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, since I’m bi, it would mean beating myself up and I’m not into that.”</p><p> </p><p>“But you aren’t rich. I’m guessing that money does not accumulate easily for you?”</p><p> </p><p>The arrow was sharp and it found its mark. He couldn’t help a tinge of bitterness in his reply, “I have never been penniless. I have an education and can work hard. It is why I mow lawns and accost strangers with my flyers.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s still not fair,” Jensen spoke softly, “And that is why we dream.”  </p><p> </p><p>The arrival of Jared’s chilli bean sub and Jensen’s lobster salad gave Jared time to regroup. </p><p> </p><p>Jensen licked his lips, “Oh, this looks good. We should stop talking and eat.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared had never been more grateful for the instruction because he wasn’t sure he <em> could </em> talk after watching that. He thought he might have a stupid little crush and wouldn’t that complicate things?</p><p> </p><p>Jared finished every crumb of his sub and Jensen pushed his plate away with only a sliver of carrot remaining. They both sighed contentedly. Jensen asked for a coffee top up before they resumed. </p><p> </p><p>“What is the charity you represent?” asked Jared, his full stomach inspiring him, “Will you be holding functions at your home? On the terrace, or in the gardens?</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, bullseye! Yes, it is my intention to host tea parties, garden parties, and children’s events. Our organisation, Dream Faeries, helps children to make memories doing something extraordinary with their terminally ill parent. Sometimes, I get to organize or host the dream and that is my favorite part of the role.” </p><p> </p><p>“Wow, that is amazing. Jensen, you are NOT a freeloader. What you do is incredible and kind.”</p><p> </p><p>Jensen looked down and fiddled with a napkin. “Thank you,” he replied eventually. “A lot of people don’t see me that way. Outside the circuit, it doesn’t make me any friends.” </p><p> </p><p><em> Because self confidence and popularity are not automatically bestowed with a fortune, </em>thought Jared, as he noticed the nervous action. He felt ashamed for his initial bitterness.</p><p> </p><p> “How soon do you need to have your terrace and lawn ready for a party?”  </p><p> </p><p>“Oh no! That’s not where we are going to start! We can tweak things later. I need you to tell me your dream for my gardens. I don’t want you to hold back. I want you to imagine that money is unlimited, time is unlimited and that your only constraints are your imagination and the topography of my land. I want you to enthuse and ramble. I want you to remember that the oak over there,” he pointed to a magnificent white oak at the edge of the park, “was planted by somebody with a vision. They never got to see the impact it makes, but their dream was important, for this park, for the birds that sing in it, and the children who play under it. When you have money, there is a difference between cost and value, and the value of that oak is immeasurable.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared’s eyes widened, “You want to create a legacy?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, don’t you?” </p><p> </p><p>Jared started to talk, he let himself ramble and enthuse. He described lawn recovery, arboretums, formal and cottage gardens, ponds, organic pest control, composting, native planting and so much more. </p><p> </p><p>Jensen made himself comfortable and listened. </p><p> </p><p>When Jared and Jensen had progressed through contract particulars and onto a discussion about favorite bedding flowers, Jared’s silent phone vibrated in his pocket and repeated every few minutes. “Sorry, I better get this,” he said eventually. </p><p> </p><p>He held the phone away from his ear as Chad yelled, “Dude! Where the hell are you? Did the rich guy kidnap you? I have been waiting for hours and the janitor is going to lock me in!”</p><p> </p><p>“I said I’d come and get you at 3.”</p><p> </p><p>Jensen looked at his Rolex and Jared checked his phone. They both grimaced. </p><p> </p><p>“Dude, it’s 3.40, did you two get jiggy?” He was loud enough that Jared was sure Jensen must have heard. He glanced across at him. Jensen quirked an eyebrow at him but his lips quirked upward too, amused and ready to laugh. </p><p> </p><p>“Chad! Shut up or you’re fired.”</p><p> </p><p>“You always say that.”</p><p> </p><p>“This time I mean it,” he hissed into the phone.</p><p> </p><p>“No you don’t,” answered Chad and Jensen at the same time.</p><p> </p><p>Jared pouted.   </p><p> </p><p>Jensen put on his shades, “C’mon. I’ll take us home.”</p><p> </p><p>The afternoon sun reflected from the bell tower of Jensen’s house as they turned onto the bumpy drive. Jared had been so excited to explore the grounds that he hadn’t paid much heed to the house until now. It’s colonial glory had faded. There were cracks in the masonry, thick ivy crept over dirty windows, and parts of the porch were adorned with bright yellow and black ‘Danger!” signs. It would have been magnificent once, with shined marble and polished wood. Maybe it could be beautiful again, but the crowd of workmen that had descended upon it now made sense to Jared. </p><p> </p><p>Jensen followed his gaze as the Impala slowed to a stop. “I know it looks impossible but I can see how my great aunt fell in love with it. Sometimes, I see a thing and I see potential. I want that thing. I know it will bring me complications. I know it is wilful of me, selfish even. I know there will be costs and heartache, but I cannot leave it alone, I have to have it. I have to believe that it will bloom and be beautiful. So, here I am, and I know I am right.” In the moment he was earnest and passionate, as if he was sharing some cosmic secret with Jared, but then he stepped out of the car, slammed the door, held up a large iron key and quipped cheerily, “Lord of the Manor!”  </p><p> </p><p>“Can you even live here?”</p><p> </p><p>Jensen counted on his fingers, “There is running water and a microwave in the kitchen. There is one usable room downstairs, which has furnishings and my own comfortable bed, I reckon that qualifies it as a bedroom. There is a bathroom with two complete walls and several floorboards. It has a big ass shower and sometimes it even has hot water. We can check it out if you’d like to join me?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Jared.</p><p> </p><p>Jared’s heart sank into his stomach. He wanted to run. There were two elements of this gig that bothered him. One was going to be difficult to voice without appearing crazy, but with this, he decided to be blunt - it was how Jensen had been with him. Then again, Jensen had money and power and he had nothing without the man’s generous contract. “Look, Jensen, I am excited for this project, and I like you but, and I’m going to be frank, this is not ‘Lady Chatterley’s Lover’ and your money doesn’t buy my body. Even if I did want to do anything,” he took a deep breath, “And you’re kind of gorgeous, but yeah, I am promised. I can’t.” </p><p> </p><p>It was Jensen’s turn to be awkward, “Oh crap! I am so sorry. I had no idea you were in a relationship.” He whacked his forehead with the palm of his hand, “Even if you weren’t, I have turned into every creep who ever hit on me. I thought we had chemistry but it was arrogant and wrong of me. Please forgive me and tell me that you will still work for me. No funny business, purely professional.” He stuck out his hand. </p><p> </p><p>Jared took it and shook firmly, “Deal. I’ll be back at 8 in the morning.” He rolled his eyes as he added, “With Chad.” </p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next morning, Jensen’s commitment to being professional consisted of a five minute meeting, with instructions to concentrate on restoring the south terrace, south lawn and the orchard. He shot off an email address for Jared to contact him, and told him that he looked forward to seeing his designs for the gardens. He left, in a plain black limousine, with a smart redhead who was very concerned about connecting flights and briefing documents. As the car turned in the uneven drive, his window slid open and he waved cheerfully at Jared, like a kid going on holiday, “A dream wish in Vegas,” he shouted, “I’ll be back in two weeks. Ask Christian if you need anything.” With that, he was gone. </p><p> </p><p>It all left Jared with the slight feeling of being cheated. Jensen was the prettiest person he had set eyes on in a long time, and while he had been the one to insist on a business relationship, eye-candy is a welcome boost for any job. Also, who and where was Christian? The name had not cropped up in his discussion with Jensen the day before. </p><p> </p><p>In the circumstances, his feelings were irrelevant, and within minutes a man strode from the house to enthusiastically introduce himself. Christian Kane was quite a sight  at 5’7” with  sparkling blue eyes, thick dark hair, and a ripped body which was showcased in tight jeans and plain tee, all topped off with a Texan hat. Jared would not go short of eye candy after all. Still, he had a job to do, and money to earn. He exchanged greetings, rolled up his metaphorical sleeves and got stuck into the project. </p><p> </p><p>Hard physical work and long hours under a warm sun were tempered with cool evenings spent in design, costings and procurement. He had never been given a project like this and the responsibility was overwhelming at times. When it all seemed too much, he thumbed through garden magazines and plant catalogs to remind himself that this was everything he had wished for since he was twelve years old. </p><p> </p><p>Well, all except for one detail - a faerie trail that Jensen had requested. It represented everything which Jared feared, and as much as he reworked his designs, he could not bring himself to include it. Night after night, he stared at his laptop, willing himself to be a normal, reasonable person. Every day, he let the land and his plants ground him again. In the end, he decided that he had plenty of time before he needed to resolve his dilemma because gardens do not bloom overnight. Nettles and brambles were cleared, grass was cut by a third on the south lawn, weeded and left to recover, then cut again the next week. A builder repaired the structure of the south terrace while Chad secured trellis for clematis and climbing roses. Between all that, and cleaning moss from paving, Jared searched the overgrown formal garden for some of the original stone planters to use.</p><p> </p><p>By the Friday before Labor day, he had rescued several urns which were perfect to repair and re-purpose and he excitedly bought plants from his local nursery. The tumble of bright flowers made the newly renovated terrace really pop, so when Christian came out with a big jug of lemonade and some cupcakes he gave a whistle of approval. “Wow. Did Jensen ask for that?”</p><p> </p><p>Jared blushed, “Not exactly. I just figured, that with all the work going on in his house, he should have somewhere pretty to kick back and relax. There’s a fantastic old stone table and bench in the undergrowth of the orchard. It looks like it came out of a Disney movie. I was considering cleaning it up and moving it here as a feature but Jensen is probably thinking of something minimalist.”</p><p> </p><p>Christian’s bright blue eyes seemed to sparkle as he grinned at Jared, “Would a minimalist live in this house? Y’know, you have a good eye. I like you. I wasn’t sure I would, but I do. ”</p><p> </p><p>Jared’s blush deepened as Christian tucked shiny brunette hair behind his ear and offered him a cake. He liked Chris too. It had been awkward initially, dropped in the deep end, the first day, trying to work out what this man’s involvement in the project was, and why did he keep offering them treats?</p><p> </p><p>Luckily, Chris demonstrated no shyness. Between jugs of lemonade and offers of food, he chatted, sang and swore. Jared pieced together that Christian was Jensen’s stepbrother, and a chef. His last job had ended abruptly after a disagreement over the use of food processors and the baking time for a gugelhupf. So, between jobs, he had offered to help Jensen with “herding cats”, as he described the task of keeping contractors on task.</p><p> </p><p>Jared didn’t see him making any real commitment to finding another job. Christian wheeled a pile of luxury brand kitchen equipment into the house, his first day, and stood over joiners and electricians until they were fitted, maintaining that Dream Faeries would need new creations for events. Since then, an assortment of fancy pastries and desserts had been offered on a daily basis, with Christian insisting that they describe the smell, taste and texture of each. Jared heard some of the builders grumble about him being a crazy hardass but, like Jensen, he was easy on the eye, and anyway, his baking rocked.</p><p> </p><p>Chris knocked back a glass of lemonade, licked his lips slowly and grinned at Jared, “You know, we could kick back and relax together.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared swallowed the piece of cake he had been chewing, too quickly, and coughed with a spray of crumbs into the air. He covered his mouth too late and apologized. “Sorry, I, em…”</p><p> </p><p>“All work and no play makes Jared a dull boy. I think we’d play well together,” he interrupted suggestively.</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t,” Jared replied quickly. <em> Why, damnit, why? </em></p><p> </p><p>“Ah, the elusive fiancee,” remarked Christian, with a sarcastic tone that took Jared by surprise. “You never seem to go home so I assumed you were avoiding her.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t...it’s not like that...I’m not engaged..”</p><p> </p><p>At that moment, Chad swaggered up, wiping sweat from his brow with the base of his shirt. He grabbed a lemonade, “Oh, boy! You’re having that conversation!” he remarked, before hot tailing it back to the mower, to pretend to check the aerator attachment.</p><p> </p><p>“You told Jensen you were engaged.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then why would you ask?” Jared was awkward and uncomfortable and could see no polite way out of the conversation. His mother might be in an asylum but he was raised right.</p><p> </p><p>Christian shrugged and leaned to breathe hotly in Jared’s ear, “You’ve got a great mind and a greater body but I ain’t Jensen, I’m not looking for a relationship, only fun. Take it or leave it.”</p><p> </p><p><em> Jensen was looking for a relationship? </em> He chewed his lip, “It’s a family thing,” he explained, “An arrangement, not an engagement.”</p><p> </p><p>Christian’s eyebrows raised, “Wow! That still happens? Did you meet them already? Are you okay with that?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I mean, I was a kid, I don’t know them.”</p><p> </p><p>“Woah! That is some heavy commitment. All the more reason to have fun while you can.”</p><p> </p><p>Fun. Nothing permanent, nothing to break the contract. It was a good offer.</p><p> </p><p>He smiled at Christian, “I’m not a cheap date,” he teased.</p><p> </p><p>Christian emptied the last of the jug of lemonade into Jared’s glass, quite a skill while his gaze swept his body. “I’ll call some contacts and ask them to chill champagne.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tomorrow,” Jared agreed, “I have somewhere to be tonight and it will be a Saturday night, so I don’t have to work in the morning.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Jared finished the day with a spring in his step and goofy grin on his face and Chad was predictably sceptical. A sense of disapproval permeated the silence of their ride home and when they came to a halt in traffic on the Williston Road he spoke up, “You refused the real deal but you’re gonna roll around with the stand in? What is wrong with you? Where did this come from?” he chastised.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s nothing serious. Some fun. I’m allowed to have fun aren’t I?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know. I mean, what is in the small print, Jared? Why can you have fun with Christian but you deny yourself a piece of Ackles’ ass.”</p><p> </p><p>“Because Jensen is our employer and anyway, he’s looking for a relationship.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who told you that? ‘Cos both of you sure looked up for fun, that first day.”</p><p> </p><p>“Chris told me. He knows him, Chad,”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh-huh, and there wouldn’t be any ulterior motive there, hmm?” </p><p> </p><p>“Of course not! It’s obvious that Jensen trusts him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mm. Look I’m not your mother but I am going to tell you to be careful. Don’t screw up anything you might really want.” </p><p> </p><p>“You know I can’t have it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Look, I’m gonna swing by McDonalds for snacks so you can drop me off here. You’re going to visit your real mother, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure. Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>“Give her my love, and then, for the love of all that is holy, do yourself a favor and find therapist for yourself. I love you man but there are no faeries. Your mother’s delusions are ruining your life.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared huffed, “You keep saying that…”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t say another word, Jared, or I swear I will scream. I will keep saying it until you believe me, because that is what a real friend does.” He jumped out into a lane of slow moving traffic, slammed the truck door and waved. “I’ll drop by the Ackles place for you, after Mr. Jones’ rockery. Make wise choices, man.” Then he was gone in a blare of horns, leaving Jared regretting his friendship choices. </p><p> </p><p>***</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Three turns, a set of traffic lights, a side road and then a left up a long, private drive - Jared knew every inch of the ride to Beechwood Psychiatric Hospital. He tapped his fingers to the radio and rehearsed words in his head that he knew he wouldn’t say.</p><p> </p><p>Inside the air was cool and the hallways were bright. Medical staff walked purposefully, with the squeak of rubber soles on a shiny floor. Jared stopped by the door to the dayroom to look at Gemma Padalecki, serene in a high backed chair, knitting a blue square. It was worth it, he thought. Their lives weren’t perfect but there were compensations and high days. They made it work. </p><p> </p><p>Her whole face brightened when she saw him, and she stood up, straight backed and proud. It was a good day, Jared could tell. </p><p> </p><p><em> Shush, </em>she mimed with a finger to her lips and pointed outside. He followed her to admire the color and smell of blooms in Beechwood’s small sensory garden. She squeezed a spearmint leaf between her fingers and breathed in the scent and he copied her, nodding his approval. </p><p> </p><p>“We had peppermint in our garden at home,” she said, “It was a lovely garden. You played in it and<em> they </em> laughed and smiled and played with you. Your daddy didn’t come out there. It was a good place for us.” Jared nodded, he had colorful memories of it, and had heard many stories from his mother. He liked to forget his father, with his black moods and quick fists, and encouraged his mom to talk about sunshine and pretty things. </p><p> </p><p>She lowered her voice to a whisper and glanced around for staff, but nobody had followed them. The suspicion that surrounded her husband’s sudden death had faded in time. There was no proof that she was a danger to anybody but herself and her delusions marked her as quaint rather than dangerous. “They don’t like me to use the f* word. They give me medicine and it makes my head hazy and my hands shake. I’m knitting a blanket you see. Blue like borage flowers, for the homeless hostel. <em> They </em> love borage flowers, you see. We could always find them in the borage patch when the sun shined.”   </p><p> </p><p>She seemed surprisingly lucid.</p><p> </p><p>“Did they reduce your meds?”</p><p> </p><p>“I think so. I talk about soap operas and knit my blankets.”</p><p> </p><p>He saw an opportunity, “Mom, they can’t hear us in the garden. I need to know some things.”</p><p> </p><p>“They can always hear us in the garden, dear.”</p><p> </p><p>“I mean your nurses.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.”</p><p> </p><p>“The one who helped us, the one you promised me to, was she from the borage patch?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nurse Anderson helps me,” his mom answered brightly.</p><p> </p><p>“No, I mean the…” he whispered, barely audible, “...the faerie who helped us.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re very confusing, Jared.” </p><p> </p><p>Jared sighed, “I know.” </p><p> </p><p>His mom frowned, she reached up to chuck his chin, “When did you get so tall?”</p><p> </p><p>“I grew up, mom.”</p><p> </p><p>“You did. What are you 6’2”? And look at those muscles!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m 6’4”, mom,” he said, infinitely patient with his mother, who had taken his father’s blows for him, had starved to feed him. and finally, in despair, had betrothed him to a faerie, to release them from a man who would surely kill them in the end. </p><p> </p><p>“I forget, you see, and I think some things I want to forget … but you…” she shrugged, “I never forget my Jared. I get mixed up. It’s the price of it all, you see. I asked a faerie to reveal herself and it makes a person crazy. We are not supposed to see them, Jared. We are not supposed to mix.” She ran thin, calloused hands through brunette hair that had grayed in thin stripes and she chewed her lip. “I’m sorry,” she said, broken and heartfelt.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m doing good, mom. We’ll go inside and I’ll tell you about my week and you can show me your blanket.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s blue you see, like borage flowers, for the homeless hostel,” she repeated. </p><p> </p><p>He put his hand around her waist and guided her back to the day room.  “I remember,” she added, “Borage, such bright blue eyes.” </p><p> </p><p>He drew breath at that and paused their steps but when he tried to eke more from her she only spoke about her blanket. They played Monopoly and he talked and talked until suppertime, about the good things in his week - the raspberry torte Chris had offered him, shimmering raindrops on  roses, Chad’s silly pranks - anything to make her smile, though it was quickly forgotten. </p><p> </p><p>Supper at Beechwood always smelt of boiled cabbage and institutions. His mom didn’t seem to mind, she dwelt in the memory of their garden where the air smelt of thyme. Jared hugged her tight, kissed her cheek and told her he would be back. She gripped him like she never wanted to let go, kissed his forehead and asked him the question she always did, “But what if she comes for you?”</p><p> </p><p>He answered the same way he always had, “I will tell her that I must visit my mother and she will not deny me,” but inside his optimism shriveled with each telling. When his faerie came for him, he would surely be gone and the life he had built, destroyed in an instant. </p><p> </p><p>Just as he turned to go, she clicked her fingers and smiled, “I remember,” she said, “Lemon Verbena, such bright green eyes.” </p><p> </p><p>Nurse Anderson gave Jared a sympathetic look. “It’s okay, I’ve got her,” she said, “You go on now.” </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jared spent the rest of the evening flinging clothes from his closet in despair. He had one suit with an unidentifiable stain near the elbow of the jacket, the collar of his shirts curled up however many times he ironed them, and his dress shoes had seen better days.</p><p> </p><p>His cell phone pinged and, as if Christian had somehow read his mind, a short message from him appeared. </p><p> </p><p>*I know you’re worrying about what to wear! Booked a table at the Hawthorn Tree. Have you any idea how difficult that is? Live band, craft beer and a banging atmosphere! You are going to love the menu. Smart casual - nothing you can’t get lobster butter on. Nothing with fiddly buttons for the after-party* </p><p> </p><p>He took a breath. Was he that easy to read? He bundled up his suit with a vow to get it cleaned, and tossed his shirts in the trash.  For now he could get away with his best Armani jeans and Ralph Lauren polo but if he was going to take on prestige contracts, then he was going to have to look the part. It would mean a shopping trip. He hated shopping. </p><p> </p><p>He texted Christian back, *Haha, sounds good. Stripper pants with Velcro!*</p><p> </p><p>The reply was a string of laughing and kisses emojis with *Oh, god, yes. But also, no. See you there, no treats today, need you hungry*</p><p> </p><p><em> The Hawthorn Tree. </em>He didn’t know the place, so he googled it. Oh boy! Christian hadn’t lied, he must have pulled strings to get a table. ‘One of the top party spots in Burlington, where the rich and beautiful hang out’ was how one reviewer described it. He’d agreed to a night of fun but he was already feeling inadequate. </p><p> </p><p>His phone pinged again and he grabbed it, sure it would be Chris. </p><p> </p><p>It was a facetime call, from a happy, intoxicated, Jensen Ackles. He was obviously in a tux, with his bow-tie askew. His cheeks were rosy and his hair was plastered around his face with perspiration. His eyes were a mellow green. He saluted Jared with a glass of liquor while the black-tie crowd behind him were oblivious, all turned away, to look at something else.  </p><p> </p><p>“This is inappropriate. Is this inappropriate?” Jensen slurred as he twisted his head sideways to get a better view of Jared who held his phone at an angle.</p><p> </p><p>“Not yet.” In truth, he felt an unexpected jolt of happiness, knowing Jensen was thinking of him, had even wanted to talk to him. And even on a small screen, disheveled as he was, Jensen looked good. Jared wanted to see more of him. He bet that Jensen’s pants sat just perfect on his ass.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want me to be inappropriate?”</p><p> </p><p><em> Hell yes, </em>he thought, but answered, “You might scare away your potential donors, Jensen.”</p><p> </p><p>Jensen pointed an unsteady forefinger at his screen, “You’re right. You’re very wise, Jared. Did you know that?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m freakin’ Yoda, dude.”</p><p> </p><p>They both dissolved into fits of laughter. When they were done Jared asked him, “Man, do you even remember why you called me?”</p><p> </p><p>“I was happy. I had such a night. I thought, who else should be happy for me and there’s my mom - but y’know she is here and she is already happy. Elderflower gin does that,” he nodded in mock wisdom, “Yup. My brother is never entirely happy about anything. Christian, love that dude, is a dick, don’t you think?”</p><p> </p><p><em> Awkward. </em>Luckily he didn’t have the chance to answer before Jensen continued,</p><p> </p><p>“I thought, Jared is a happy person. He would be happy. We should be happy together. I have had such a good time. I should tell him … tell you. Jared will smile. You have a nice smile, good teeth and soft wide lips...you know what your mouth would…,”</p><p> </p><p><em> And woah </em> … , “I’m not a horse Jensen.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared wanted to slap his own forehead, he knew what he had set himself up for …</p><p> </p><p>It took a second for the lascivious smile to widen on Jensen’s face, “No but I bet you’re …”</p><p> </p><p>Jared shut him down, “Inappropriate!” </p><p> </p><p>He thought that Jensen’s giggle was adorable. He could get addicted.</p><p> </p><p>Just as Jensen was pulling his composure back, the crowd behind him applauded. Jared could only just hear him over the noise, “Oh, you’re good! You’re too quick for me! We should be dating. Why aren’t we dating?” Jensen slurred.</p><p> </p><p>To hell with lies - Jensen wasn’t going to remember this conversation, “My mother betrothed me to a faerie. I mean, it’s not like the faerie has come to claim me but it would probably be frowned upon if they did. And speaking of frowned upon, you are also my client.”</p><p> </p><p>The expected burst of giggles didn’t materialize. “But you’d like to, right?”</p><p> </p><p>The crowd was starting to disperse around Jensen.</p><p> </p><p>Jared laughed, “You are irresistible, Jensen. Dude, you are going to regret this call in the morning, if you even remember it.”</p><p> </p><p>Jensen pulled a face at the screen, “And inappropriate. Uh-oh, I  have to get back to the grind but Corey Taylor dude! The real Corey Taylor! I’ll send you the link.” </p><p> </p><p>The screen blurred as Jensen’s phone was snatched away. Jared heard the lilting voice of a woman say, “Is that Jared? Let me see.” </p><p> </p><p>The screen went black and he heard, “No, mom!”</p><p> </p><p>He saw another blur of Jensen on the screen as he yelled, “Later!” </p><p> </p><p>Jared sat on his bed with a goofy grin on his face and his cell phone in his hand. Jensen had told his mom about him! His heartbeat was a dance and he felt warm with a happy tingle all over his body. It couldn’t be love, he hardly knew the man, but it sure felt like chemistry. </p><p> </p><p>His phone pinged twice in succession. He checked the messages, one from Christian and a link from Jensen. He pressed the thumbs up emoji to quickly reply to Chris and then clicked the link with anticipation. </p><p> </p><p>It was a YouTube video, uploaded by Impala67, earlier that evening, titled ‘The Mick and Amber band/Dead or Alive’. It opened with announcements made on a stage dwarfed beneath a ‘Dream Faeries’ logo, then the curtain rose and somebody announced a father, Mick and his teenage daughter, Amber who walked onto the stage sporting wide, excited smiles, bowed to the crowd and then embraced. The daughter placed a bass guitar in her father’s hands and then sat, almost dwarfed by a drum kit worthy of the loudest of rock bands. Some professional-looking musicians jumped on stage to join them and then the daughter hit the drums with a roll. Jensen leaped onto the stage and up to the microphone, “I have great pleasure to introduce the one, the only, Corey Taylor of Slipknot."</p><p> </p><p>Corey took the mic, “Tonight. Ladies and gentlemen, Mick and Amber will be rocking us with their performance and I have the honor to jam with them. Hit it!” </p><p> </p><p>The opening chords of Dead or Alive started to play and Jensen couldn’t hide his excitement. He fist pumped the air as he began to sing, And, oh, how he could sing! Jared watched the entire performance in awe. Not a beat was missed, not a single wrong note. Jensen looked and performed like a rock star. He matched Corey Taylor and they both played off the solos which showcased Mick and Amber. The performance was practised and flawless. It was clear what Jensen had been working on in Vegas. If this was the sort of memory that Dream Faeries created, then Jensen had significantly underrepresented himself to Jared. He watched it on repeat. It was still playing when he fell asleep. </p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Saturday morning was dedicated to paperwork and accounts. The Spendlethift debacle was still fresh in Jared’s mind so he resolved to put all thoughts of Jensen, Christian and even faeries out of his mind until his last piece of paper was filed and his books were balanced.  Jensen had kept his word and the first week’s invoice had already been paid. Once Jared had settled all of his outgoings he was marginally in the black for the first time in several months. It felt good.  </p><p> </p><p>He leaned back in his chair and stretched. Chad was out at the Ackles place so he would work on planting schedules, invite bids on specialist services and then get ready for his date with Christian. <em> Should it be called a date? Could dinner at a classy club really be defined as a one night stand? Technically he didn’t date. If it was a date, then why not date Jensen? If it was a one night stand, did it mean that Jensen was on the table for a one night stand too? Yes, Jensen was his client but Christian was acting as his client’s foreman so surely that was double standards.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“Aagh!” he yelled aloud as he relaxed his muscles. His love life generally consisted of a casual hook up and sneaking out on a stranger at 5 a.m. How was it getting so out of control? <em> Jensen Ackles, </em>his mind unhelpfully supplied. Not once did he consider that his mysterious faerie wife might not exist. He had examined the possibility that his mother had invented a faerie, in great depth, since his teen years but her story about a faerie deal had never changed and Jared hadn’t come up with a reasonable alternative theory. He’d spent his entire life avoiding faerie rings and faerie ephemera to escape his uncertain fate but now he wondered if it would be better to get it over and done with. Maybe his faerie had decided he was too big or too ugly and didn’t want him any more. It was all so complicated.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>His Uber dropped him off at five to eight. He straightened his jacket and ran his fingers through his hair. There was no sign of Christian outside the venue, so he waited in the glow of its neon sign. The entrance to the Hawthorn Tree jostled with hopefuls waiting for entry. Ladies with barely-there designer dresses tittered and flirted with two burly bouncers. Men in expensive shades and carefully ripped jeans peered over and into the crowd, looking for any progress in the slow line. Jared chewed his lip and looked mournfully at the outfit he had gleefully purchased pre-worn from eBay a year earlier. Sure, it had the tags but it was seasons out-of-date. It didn’t help that his shoulders and biceps barely squeezed into the fabric of his top. It was uncomfortable and while he had shaved, his hair was already windswept and <em> oh god </em> - was lip-gloss de-rigueur for men these days? Because a lot of them seemed to be wearing it. Chad had nagged him to get out more but the business had been struggling and his  one-bed apartment with it’s huge couch and south facing balcony was perfect to crash out, drink beer, play games and sleep. Real life was passing him by.  </p><p> </p><p>One of the bouncers uncoupled the entry chain and slipped through towards him, as if to greet somebody. Jared looked at the taxi-line that slowed at the curb, wondering if he would see a celebrity. He didn’t recognise anybody.</p><p> </p><p>“Mr. Padalecki, sir?”</p><p> </p><p>He was startled at the bouncer’s close presence, he had at least three inches height on him and his impressive breadth was packed with muscles. <em> Was he blocking an entrance? The sidewalk? </em>  “I should move. I’m in the way aren’t I?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mr Padalecki, my name is Pip.” He pointed to a name tag pinned to his lapel - ‘P. Peppertwist’. His poker face invited no comment on his name.</p><p> </p><p>“Mr. Kane asked me to greet you.” He showed him a text with a photo of himself in sweaty bandana, clearly taken while he was working on the Ackles property. Christian had not asked permission to take the unflattering snap and it made him uncomfortable. </p><p> </p><p>Pip continued, “He is running a little late. Step this way.” </p><p> </p><p>Now Jared noticed the curious looks from the line of hopefuls. He colored up in embarrassment, everyone was staring. </p><p> </p><p>“Mr. Kane? Oh, right, yes, Christian. I er, I’m fine. I can wait.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course, your table is ready and you should wait in comfort. Champagne is on ice. Follow me.” </p><p> </p><p>“Right.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared just avoided falling on his face as he tripped on the first step into the venue. <em> Could he get any more obvious? </em> Pip thankfully remained poker faced. He concentrated on keeping the bouncer in sight and staying upright as he pushed through the crowd to follow him up a circular wooden staircase. It sparkled with fairy lights and small lanterns and opened out into a plushly carpeted balcony with cocktail bar and four dining tables. It had an unobstructed view of the stage below. Pip nodded greetings to a similarly uniformed man who unclipped another chain to give entry. <em> Okay then, it was the VIP area </em>. He looked around in awe, he was way out of his league. Branches from the tree staircase extended across the low ceiling, giving the impression of a woodland glade and each table was decorated with wreaths of flowers to reflect the theme. It was beautiful and Jared would have appreciated it if the glamorous couples at the other tables hadn’t turned to stare as he was seated alone. </p><p> </p><p>A tiny, efficient waitress who introduced herself as Genevieve proceeded to cluck about him, offering a glass of Dom Perignon and a plate of tiny seafood hor d’oeuvres. He had never felt so <em> visible </em>and while the little lobster pastry he first bit into was absolutely delicious, he could feel the crumbs stick to his lips and shed onto his clothes. He put it down abruptly and picked up his glass. His sip seemed more like a gulp and a drip settled on the crease of his mouth. He used his napkin, missed the table and dropped it on the floor. Genevieve appeared from nowhere to pick it up and provide a fresh one. Roadies finished setting up the stage below and a man in jeans and a luminescent pink top appeared for a sound test. “123 Testing, 123.”  </p><p> </p><p><em> Where the hell was Christian? </em> Was this a cruel prank? </p><p> </p><p>His phone pinged and his heart sank into his stomach, it was a text from Christian, *Hey, had a job come up last minute. Thought I’d make it but I’m still here. Don’t waste the reservation, am arranging company for you.* </p><p> </p><p>He felt sick, like everybody in the club could see he’d been stood up. And who did Christian think he was? Did he think Jared was some sort of gigolo he could pass off to one of his friends? He wanted to storm out but he was frozen to his seat in anxiety, not knowing if security would detain him unless he paid the check or signed something. Then he would have to walk out alone, down stairs, on jelly-legs and close to tears. It was a mess, <em> he was a mess </em>. He picked up the generous sized menu and hid his face, pretending to read it.  </p><p> </p><p>A hand rested on his shoulder and squeezed, gently, “Hey.” </p><p> </p><p>Jared jumped and dropped the menu to the table, he didn’t have to turn to check out who it was because Jensen <em> goddamn </em> Ackles was already leaning into his view with his most charming smile, and his cologne smelt distractingly good. </p><p> </p><p>“I told you he’s a dick. I love my brother, Jared, but he’s a dick. How are you?” </p><p> </p><p>Jared wiped his hand over his damp eyes and swallowed back tears of relief. “I didn’t see you come up the stairs.I didn’t know you were back.”</p><p> </p><p>“I caught the red-eye from Vegas last night.” Jensen gestured to a staff door behind the bar, “And I didn’t take the guest stairs. Full disclosure: Our cousin owns this place, it’s how Christian got the reservation.” He picked up one of the pastries and popped it into his mouth whole, “Oh, my god I love these,” he said enthusiastically, with his mouth full, and crumbs sprayed onto the table. He pulled out a chair and sat opposite Jared. “Holy Cow, Jared, you look hot! That shirt fits, absolutely perfectly!” He pretended to fan himself, “Chris’s loss,” then he picked up something that looked like shrimp toast and offered it to him, “You’ve got to try this, it’s buttered chilli shrimp. I mean it makes an unbelievable mess but it's amazing.” </p><p> </p><p>Jared finally found his voice and tentatively accepted it from him, “Yeah, I dropped pastry everywhere earlier.”</p><p> </p><p>“Everyone does it. That’s what it’s all about, dude.” Jensen lowered his voice so only Jared would hear him, “I think a good proportion of the clientele get food on their clothes deliberately.” He mimed actions to his next words, “Oh dear! Oh my! I must remove my ruined top. Woe is me, I have to display my body on the dance floor while this person grinds against me!”  </p><p> </p><p>He grinned at Jared and for the first time that evening Jared felt himself unwinding. He grinned back at him and bit into the shrimp. It was divine and it was suddenly unimportant if butter dripped down his chin. “It’s good,” he agreed. </p><p> </p><p>“So, I’m the stand in. Who is the band? Are you okay with me being the understudy? I mean obviously not for the sex part, you already made that clear.” Jensen was nonchalant as he finished off the hors d’oeuvres.</p><p> </p><p>Jared looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Um, band. I don’t know. He told you everything?”</p><p> </p><p>“Did you tell Chad?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, yes, but…”</p><p> </p><p>“Bros and buddies, dude.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re cool with this?”</p><p> </p><p>“If you are. I love food. I like you a lot. What’s not to be cool with? I mean, I thought you were promised or something so it's weird, but sure, hanging out with you is no hardship. Look at you!” He licked his lips and Jared stared. He continued, “Everyone will be gossiping.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared shook himself from his haze in a panic, “What if I don’t want anyone to gossip? It was supposed to be dinner and a roll in the hay, not some PR stunt.”</p><p> </p><p>“A roll in the hay?” Jensen looked unreasonably hurt. “With Christian! He wasn’t exaggerating? You actually planned that?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t date so if he thought it was more, he was wrong.”</p><p> </p><p>“Because your family has already arranged your marriage to a stranger?”</p><p> </p><p>Jared nodded, he was finally making some headway.</p><p> </p><p>“And you don’t have a problem with that?”</p><p> </p><p>“A promise is a promise and I can’t hate somebody I don’t know. Maybe I will have a problem with it, but why borrow trouble?” Jared quoted one of his mother’s favorite sayings. </p><p> </p><p>The strained chords of a dance number began and the band introduced themselves. Jensen grimaced. “You’re into Pity Chick?”</p><p> </p><p>Jared grimaced back at him, “No,” but the words were lost in a blast of music. </p><p> </p><p>Jensen leaned towards him and shouted, "Do you like burgers?"</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” nodded Jared.</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s get out of here.” Jensen lifted his hand and Genevieve was by their side in a moment. He asked for the check and she pointed to the barman. There was some unspoken conversation and they were waved away. He grabbed the bottle of Dom Perignon from it’s clinking ice bath and waved it at Jared, “Shall we take it with us?”</p><p> </p><p>Jared shook his head, it was just sweet enough for his taste, and a glass with a meal would be great, but he didn’t like to drink much. He knew where that led.</p><p> </p><p>“Nah. I bet the staff would love to finish it off,” he replied.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, of course,” Jensen dropped it back so hard that a shard of ice broke off and shot through the air, briefly reflecting a shimmering rainbow of twinkling light. </p><p> </p><p><em> Like faerie wings, </em>thought Jared but he shook the thought off. He was probably being a douche, champagne like that had to be expensive. </p><p> </p><p>It was dark on the street when they stumbled out of the Hawthorn Tree but the sidewalk remained busy and the air warm. “Al’s Fries,” suggested Jensen.</p><p> </p><p>“Definitely!” </p><p> </p><p>“Have you ever had their…,” they spoke together, and spent the cab ride comparing notes on burgers, hot dogs and fries.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jared checked his phone - nine in the morning. Jensen snuffled and placed a muscular and freckled arm around his waist and pulled him back into a sleepy embrace with his head on Jared’s chest. </p><p> </p><p>This was not the way it was supposed to work. Did Jensen have no understanding of the principles of a one night stand?</p><p> </p><p>Some sleepy drool wasn’t so bad, he hadn’t exactly objected to the things that Jensen’s tongue had achieved the night before. But the thing was, Jensen was breaking all the rules:-</p><p>1. One night stands take place on neutral territory, or the hook up’s place, absolutely never at Jared’s place.</p><p> </p><p>And this was because  </p><p>2. There is no morning after. Hook ups finish by 5 a.m. when the other party is asleep or pretending to be asleep. Morning-after conversations are avoided at all costs. No further contact after that. </p><p> </p><p>Additionally,</p><p>3. Sex scratched an itch. It was to be a little tipsy, a little frantic and somewhat one sided. You win some, you lose some.</p><p> </p><p>And especially,</p><p>4. No cuddles or sweet talk. </p><p> </p><p>They had broken every single rule and if Jensen didn’t leave soon then the number one, golden rule,</p><p>5. No do-overs, was becoming increasingly hard to resist. Jensen was absolutely beautiful, right the fuck by his side and his talented fingers were caressing his skin, playing his libido like a fiddle. </p><p> </p><p>“You overthink,” Jensen muttered, so his lips just grazed Jared’s left nipple.</p><p> </p><p>Breath hitched, “You overstay,” he retorted.  </p><p> </p><p>Jensen’s hand ghosted down to his treasure trail. He was playing dirty and Jared was finding it almost impossible to resist. Still, it had to be done. He huffed and weakly reminded him, “One night stand, Jensen.”</p><p> </p><p>Jensen leaned up on one elbow and looked at him with those ridiculous, long lashed, gem-green eyes, a picture of innocence. “Ah, but, it’s a holiday weekend.”</p><p> </p><p>“So?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s like when they put the clocks back and you get an extra hour, only it’s a long weekend so we get an extra night.” </p><p> </p><p>“That’s not a thing!” </p><p> </p><p>Jensen licked a stripe from Jared’s chest, over his neck and stopped to suck his earlobe, “It sure is, and it means I have to make breakfast and feed you strawberries.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared turned his face to Jensen’s, “How do you know that I have strawberries?”</p><p> </p><p>Jensen shrugged, “I got hungry and checked out your fridge while you were snoring. FYI, there’s no beer but the pizza was good. I need to change my delivery.”</p><p> </p><p>“There is soda! And you are the worst one-night stand ever!” </p><p> </p><p>Jensen pulled his trademark cocky grin, “You love it,” before he was cut off by Jared diving in for a long, deep, slightly garlicky kiss. There was only so much self control he could exercise. </p><p> </p><p>Mid-afternoon, they stopped for their second shower since the first had only led back to the bedroom. Jensen kept his promise to make pancakes in Jared’s kitchen. He topped them with chopped strawberries, poured cream on top of that and sprinkled sugar, just so he could hand feed it all to Jared and make suggestive comments about sugar daddies and cream on his lips. </p><p> </p><p>“Too tired!” Jared had declared before dissolving into shared giggles with him as they let the conversation get dirtier and more ridiculous. </p><p> </p><p>It was all good in the moment, and hilarious until Jensen gave him an affectionate kiss on the back of his neck as they loaded the dishwasher.  Jared wanted more. He wanted to know everything about Jensen, his likes, dislikes, childhood pranks. He wanted date nights, sleepy nights, sexy nights, shared chores, even in laws. It might last forever or it might fizzle out in weeks. Hell, he might be a temporary bit of rough for Jensen’s amusement but it all sucked because he would never know. Worse than that, maybe even wishing for it made him unfaithful. Would faeries take revenge on him or his mother? Could they hurt Jensen?” </p><p> </p><p>He sat down heavily on a kitchen stool, suddenly serious and emotional. “I can’t do this. You should go.”  </p><p> </p><p>He expected a smart alec reply. Instead Jensen sat opposite him with an equally serious expression. “Because I’m a pushy dick? Or I’m bad at sex? Because you have the right, without explaining? Or because your mother betrothed you to a faerie?” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, my god!” Jared buried his head in his hands. “You are not bad at sex. And how do you remember I said that? You must think I’m crazy.”</p><p> </p><p>Jensen took his hand across the counter, “I don’t think you’re crazy and I don’t think you were lying. Also, I wear a little button cam on event nights. It captures special moments for publicity and makes sure we follow up every financial pledge. I’m sorry, it was wrong of me to record you but I didn’t realise until I started to sober up. I wasn’t going to mention it but you look so sad right now. Do you want to talk about it?”</p><p> </p><p>It had to be a sick prank that Jensen was pulling. “I was joking, Jensen,” he lied angrily. Are you filming this for hits on YouTube? For fun with your buddies? Did you plan it with Christian? Am I a joke to you?” </p><p> </p><p>Jensen squeezed his hand gently, “Look at me, Jared. This time with you? It is entirely private, adult, consenting fun. It isn’t about anything else. There is no tease, no big reveal, only you and me, and I have a lot of respect for you because you have kept it light to do the right thing by somebody that another person promised you to. I’m not going to tell you that arranged marriage is wrong because it happens in a lot of cultures and it is your consent that matters, nobody else has a say in it. Only, when you talk about it, there is no excitement, no spark or anticipation. Would you want to go ahead if you thought your fiance didn't want it?” </p><p> </p><p>He noticed Jensen’s hand curled over his and his earnest gaze and he wanted to let every sadness and worry bleed out, until he was empty of it all. But, yeah, he had also seen the way that Jensen switched on charm and a smile for profit. He remembered his own father’s rattlesnake smile and gracious public manner and how that facade had slipped into mean words and meaner fists in private. He pulled his hand away from Jensen. “You don’t need to patronise me. It was a joke. It’s not complicated, I don’t want any commitments.” </p><p> </p><p>Jensen listened to him and took a few moments to respond, “Okay. Well, I would love to stay and have some more uncomplicated fun. If I screwed the vibe, then I will grab my stuff and go. Or we could Netflix and chill. If I’m a dick then I can be your dick for another night and on Tuesday, I promise it will be like nothing happened. You will create an amazing garden and I will appreciate it.” His wide eyed plea seemed genuine. </p><p> </p><p>For the first time in his life, Jared craved an intimate connection with another person.<em> It couldn’t end well. It was a bad idea. An awful idea. </em> Unfortunately, his unreliable heart excused him with every beat, while his libido echoed Chad’s words, ‘<em>Faeries aren’t real’. </em>He wanted every moment he could get with Jensen. </p><p> </p><p>He threw caution to the wind. “I haven’t seen The Irishman yet,” he offered. </p><p> </p><p>“Robert de Niro and Al Pacino, always a classy combination,” Jensen agreed. In two leaps he transitioned from Jared’s tiny kitchen onto his big, cozy couch. “Where’s the remote? Why do you have all these cushions? It’s like an IKEA ad.”</p><p> </p><p>The deliberate redirection was gratefully accepted by Jared. “They are comfortable,” he argued, winking at Jensen, “Cushions can be useful in many activities that take place on a couch between consenting adults.” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I change my mind. I LOVE cushions!” He picked one up and hugged it. </p><p> </p><p>Jared wanted to be that cushion. </p><p> </p><p>“In fact, no lie, I love your whole apartment. It has everything you need and nothing you don’t and there isn’t a floor board missing, anywhere.” He licked his lips, “The view from your balcony is amazing, we could have a beer and…”</p><p> </p><p>“We are not having sex on my balcony!”</p><p> </p><p>“Your loss,” muttered Jensen.</p><p> </p><p>Jared sat beside him, “You have gardens the size of a park and a house bigger than this entire block.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not the size that matters, it’s …,”</p><p> </p><p>“What you do with it!” finished Jared. He was unwinding. There was something about Jensen’s easy presence that could do that for him, “But I do like big, it does so much more.”</p><p> </p><p>“Am I a disappointment?” grinned Jensen.</p><p> </p><p>Jared glanced at his crotch and threw a cushion at him, “Stop fishing for compliments. You know you aren’t.”</p><p> </p><p>Jensen grabbed the cushion and threw it back at him. It soon degenerated into a pillow fight, and when Jensen straddled Jared in victory, with red cheeks and tousled hair, Jared knew that they wouldn’t be watching a movie that day. He pulled him down for a breathless kiss as he ground up against him, his eager cock searching for more than friction. </p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sunlight filtered through the gap in Jared’s curtains and he could feel  the morning warmth on his bare chest. He stretched his aching, satisfied body and his skin felt only the tangled mess of sheets. He opened his eyes - he was in his bed alone. He sat up and noticed that Jensen’s clothes were gone. A glass of water and two advil rested on the nightstand beside him so he swallowed them down, closed his eyes and let himself fall back with a heavy whumpf. Jensen was gone. Sweet and considerate in every way he had sneaked out in compliance with Jared’s own rules. He should be grateful. Instead he felt selfish and lonely. His life was unfair, he was in limbo with no way of ending the uncertainty and disappointment. It was a public holiday, he had nothing fun to do and nobody to share it with. He pulled the covers over his head and went back to sleep. </p><p> </p><p>A loud hammering on the door woke him. Sunlight had faded to a late afternoon glow and the air in his room hung stale and heavy. He sniffed. Ugh. He was gross, his room was gross. The hammering continued. He hoped it wasn’t somebody from the Housing Association, because he was sure that he had earned at least one fine for noise, or antisocial behaviour with Jensen. He gave a happy groan, even as his limbs and ass protested his lazy stretching. It was worth it - even being bent over the balcony railing as Jensen reamed his ass - no, <em>especially that</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Jared!” </p><p> </p><p>He recognized the voice. Chad. No point in worrying about appearances. He wrapped his sheet around himself and answered the door.</p><p> </p><p>“Dude! I found out that Christian went out of town. I haven’t seen you since Thursday and you haven’t been answering your phone. What the hell? I’m supposed to be your wingman. You are supposed to check in with me.” </p><p> </p><p>He slammed the door behind Chad. “I need coffee.”</p><p> </p><p>Chad followed him to the kitchen. “And a shower.” </p><p> </p><p>“You’re intrusive, you know that? I’m an adult. I turned off my phone because I was doing adult things.”</p><p> </p><p>Chad crinkled his nose, “It smells like sex in here. Why does it smell of sex in your kitchen? Anyway, that was Saturday. It is now Monday.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared ignored him until his brew was poured and a generous pile of sugar and creamer had been stirred into it. He offered the pot to Chad, then took a gulp and sighed contentedly, “I needed that.” He looked at Chad and the grin he wanted to give was lopsided because, in truth, he would rather it was Jensen in the kitchen, joshing him for his disgusting coffee habits.</p><p> </p><p> “Public holiday.” he explained, “We got a do-over. And It smells of sex<em> everywhere </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ugh! Jared! You lucky tramp! Christian was that good eh?” He picked up a scrap of paper from the counter and held it for Jared to see. </p><p> </p><p>*I had an AMAZING time. Thank you. J*</p><p> </p><p>Chad looked at it again. “His grammar sucks.”</p><p> </p><p>“Christian couldn’t make our date.” Jared headed for the shower without elaborating.</p><p> </p><p>Chad grabbed a soda from the fridge, made himself comfortable and continued the conversation. He had never understood boundaries. </p><p> </p><p>“So you made off with some random person, to re-enact a porn movie,<em> in your own home </em>? Dude, you’ll be finding bunnies boiling on your stove.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared ignored him. He let rivulets of tepid water cool his skin, and the lather of his lemon shampoo slid a treacherous path to erase the evidence of Jensen’s skilful body. He leaned his hand against the smooth cool tiles, but it couldn't bring back the moment Jensen had let go and screamed for “more”, “harder” and “yes,”  there the day before. God! He needed to get his head straight before he saw him again. He needed to think. </p><p> </p><p>He yelled an explanation over the steady drum of water, “It’s okay, Jensen filled in for him.”</p><p> </p><p>“What!” Chad yelled, then fell uncharacteristically quiet. </p><p> </p><p>He shut off the shower and toweled his hair. Chad remained ominously quiet.</p><p> </p><p>Jared changed the subject. “How was your date with Jo?”</p><p> </p><p>“Man, she made my favourite lamb curry for dinner and that thing she does with her hair, ungh!” Chad paused then,</p><p> </p><p>“But?” asked Jared, as he shimmied into soft shorts. </p><p> </p><p>“She also brought a magazine. You know, the sort with wedding dresses and flower arrangements.”</p><p> </p><p>“You have been dating for over a year.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’m only twenty six! We’re not the settling sort. I mean, you and me. The Lone Ranger and Tonto.”</p><p> </p><p>“I dunno, Chad. Someone to come home to, somebody to share jokes and food and life in general with. Doesn’t seem too bad to me.” </p><p> </p><p>Momentarily Chad fell silent, he seemed to be thinking. He regrouped quickly, “My friend Jared got replaced by an alien,” he declared. He switched channels until he found the football.  </p><p> </p><p>Finally fresh again, and with his bedding in the laundry Jared settled into a familiar routine with sports, chips and Chad. It was only when he was leaving that Chad dropped his bombshell, “I’ve changed our shifts tomorrow. We both know that Mrs. Fowler only employs us to ogle your ass. I’ll cover the Ackles place.”</p><p> </p><p>“When did I make you boss the boss of me?” demanded Jared. </p><p> </p><p>“This afternoon, when I realized that you have no idea what you have got yourself into with that man. Something’s not right with him and you need to be careful.”</p><p> </p><p>“Um, adult here, and I do practice safe sex, y’know.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, do me a favor and cover me, because Mrs. Fowler always gets on my case, and you can think things through.  Ackles wanted you the moment he saw you. He offered you the sort of money we cannot make on any other contract, in minutes dude, literally minutes.  You turned him down for a date and suddenly his brother asks you out. When his brother mysteriously disappears, Jensen f*cking Ackles turns up, from nowhere. And you! You go all Fatal Attraction with him for the weekend. He’s a bunny boiler. Mark my words.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wow. Say what you think why not, Chad? He’s a nice guy and you’re an idiot. But you know what? I will cover Mrs Fowler, because you’re right, I have a great ass and right now it is too sore to be climbing trees. I will put you on the orchard all week, then I’ll review our schedule.” </p><p>Jared got some satisfaction from Chad’s pout - he hated being trussed up in a safety harness and Jared knew it. If the door slammed a little too hard behind his friend, it could be passed off as an accident. </p><p> </p><p>***</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jared hated to admit that Chad was right but Jensen’s sudden appearance at The Hawthorn Tree had been odd and it did prove better to swap shifts. He avoided any awkward encounters with Jensen, Mrs. Fowler recommended them to a neighbor, and the school playing fields were an easy day. He wasn’t entirely ignoring the Ackles garden, he negotiated an incredible deal with Beaver’s nursery on white oaks and bulbs for the driveway and a contractor was selected for fencing and paths. And yes, he had taken some time to think about his past and his future. Not that he had drawn any conclusions or made any decisions but he was twenty six, his mother was hospitalized for a mental disorder, his best friend was a whisker away from getting married and he was avoiding his client because of faeries and an ill considered weekend of sex. It couldn’t go on but he had no idea how to turn it around either. </p><p> </p><p>It all came to a head on Friday morning, with the buzz of his doorbell while he was busy planting baskets on his balcony.  Jared put down his seedlings and wiped compost from his hands. He grabbed his wallet and prepared himself for the embarrassment of a further encounter with the President of the Housing Association, because <em>of course</em> a neighbor had reported ‘lewd noises past quiet hours’. A fine for $50.00 had been issued and he had stuttered a beet-red apology, promised he would have the money for him by the end of the week, and assured him that it would not happen again.</p><p> </p><p><em> No small talk, take the money and go, </em>he prayed silently as he answered the door, offering a $50 note in his right hand to … Jensen.</p><p> </p><p>“Is this a bribe to make me go away, because I have to tell you, $50 is not going to cut it,” he deadpanned Jared, but his tone was icy. “Can I come in? It is a business matter and your business is listed at this address.”</p><p> </p><p>“Um, yeah, I’ll just…” he stuffed the banknote into his pocket and laughed awkwardly, “I thought you were the HOA, lewd behavior fine, y’know. Anyway, my office is kind of small and off the bedroom, but you know that. Generally, I hire a workspace if I need it. Or go for coffee.” <em>Was Jensen stalking him?</em> <em>Could he be any more awkward? </em></p><p> </p><p>Jensen was still at the door. <em> He always looked so intensely at Jared </em>.</p><p> </p><p>Jared shivered, despite the warmth of the day because turning up unannounced, at your gardener’s home, days after a one night stand, was not normal. <em>Bunny boiler, </em>his brain reminded him. “Yeah, oh, kitchen then? At least I know how you have your coffee.” he chuckled nervously. <em>Oh god, why did he have to laugh like that?</em></p><p> </p><p>Jensen stepped past him and through to the kitchen. It gave Jared a view of his back. It was a nicely shaped back, with muscular shoulders and a slim waist, and he remembered exactly how it felt under his fingertips when those muscles flexed during sex. <em> Get a grip, Jared. No, not that sort of grip! God! Stop thinking, Jared! </em></p><p> </p><p>He followed. <em> Like a lamb to the slaughter.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Jensen patted a bar stool and Jared sat obediently. He eyed his knife block and tried to calculate a route to it. </p><p> </p><p>“You look pale. Are you unwell?” Jensen seemed genuinely concerned. He put down his keys, grabbed some mugs and set them on the counter to make coffee, like it was his own kitchen <em> and who does that? </em> </p><p> </p><p>“No, I, um, it’s just a little awkward,” admitted Jared.</p><p> </p><p>“Because you have blocked my number and ignored my email? Or because of the lewd weekend behavior? Because if it’s the latter, I had a fantastic time and you have absolutely no need to be ashamed, whatever your uptight neighbors might think.” </p><p> </p><p>Jared felt the need to defend them, “It was the balcony…”</p><p> </p><p>“The former though, is disappointing and inconvenient. I thought we were being professional, Mr. Padalecki.”</p><p> </p><p>He shook himself out of his fugue, because<em> that </em>was uncalled for. He could be icy too. “Chad - er, Mr. Michael-Murray was liaising with you this week. He has been with you every day. I am sure he can deal with any queries you have.” </p><p> </p><p>“Except, he seems entirely unable to explain why there is zero progress on the design or execution of the faerie trail that I requested to be a priority.”</p><p> </p><p><em> Oh. </em>   “Well, obviously, the wooded areas related to it must be safe and we shall be re-purposing some of the timber trimmed from your trees. Tree surgery is being undertaken this week.” <em> Yeah, he could bullshit. </em></p><p> </p><p>Jensen placed his mug on the counter and settled with his hands on his chin, looking at Jared. His expression softened, “I’m sorry if I misjudged. You must think I’m some sort of psycho stalker. A dream has been requested. I would like to host it myself, if at all possible.” He picked his coffee up again and cradled it in his hands, like he needed the warmth. He tipped his head to the side, an invitation for Jared to talk.  </p><p> </p><p>Jared hated long silences and Jensen looked so genuine. “I swear I will get on it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me your vision for it. Whatever you have so far.” </p><p> </p><p>Jared was lost for words. There was no vision or inspiration. He hadn’t wanted to think about faeries.</p><p> </p><p>That intense green stare was accompanied by a simple, “Ah!” before Jared’s most important client gulped the last of his coffee and his empty mug made a dull thud on the surface. He picked up his keys and slipped off the stool. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He was leaving. That couldn’t mean anything good.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I will pick you up on Sunday morning, at 10.00, Mr. Padalecki.”</p><p> </p><p>He felt a flicker of annoyance at the gall of the man. “I didn’t agree to work on Sundays.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good, because we are going on a field trip. A quest, if you like. We’ll take my unicorn.”</p><p> </p><p><em> Oh, the presumption! </em> “I told you, Mr. Ackles, I don’t date."</p><p> </p><p>“There is no date. Think of it as a part of your continuous personal development. I promise it will be of interest to you. Wear something practical, with comfortable shoes, and bring your camera and a notebook.”</p><p> </p><p>“I might be doing something!” he protested.</p><p> </p><p>“What? Washing your hair? You don’t date, Mr. Padalecki.”</p><p> </p><p>It was a low blow. “You have a contract for my services, not my body, Mr. Ackles.” </p><p> </p><p>If Jared had expected him to be angry, he was wrong. Jensen sighed and jingled the keys in his hand, he looked inexplicably sad. “We do have a contract and I have no wish to break it but if you feel you cannot complete it, I will agree to cancel, with no ill will.”</p><p> </p><p>His stomach did a flip. The man was infuriating but he couldn’t afford to piss him off. He needed this contract. It was a golden ticket that any gardener his age could only dream of. And maybe there was a small part of him that couldn’t bear the idea of never seeing Jensen again. </p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t say I wouldn’t come,” he conceded, forcing a bright smile, “I shall look forward to it.” </p><p> </p><p>Jensen looked relieved. “Great. Well. I’ll see you then.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure."</p><p> </p><p>He watched him from the balcony as he walked back to his Impala with a bounce in his step, turning to look up at Jared and give him his excited, childish wave, like the day he had gone to Vegas. Jared wondered where his personal assistant and Christian had gone to. Did the man infuriate everyone?</p><p>xxx</p><p>Jared woke in the night with a cold sweat on his brow. There had been faeries in the borage patch. Christian had been there, his bright blue eyes full of laughter and lips which twisted with anger as a shadow approached. Sharp, curled fingernails offered him a tiny teacup, then a flitter and flutter and an impression of a tiny redhead crossed his vision. Then they were all gone except Jared and his mother and a thundercloud father with the clap, clap, clap of a heavy leather belt. It seemed so real. But it was always faeries and it always did. The need for answers from his delusional mother seemed to regularly trigger him after his Friday visits and the inclusion of Christian was unsurprising considering his mixed feelings since the night of the Hawthorn Tree. He had long ago stopped wondering if there were any significant memories to pull from his nightmares. </p><p> </p><p>This evening he had asked his mother something different. “How did you do it?” </p><p> </p><p>“I couldn’t,” she had answered, already starting to melt into a mess of wailing and tears, “And now they are going to take you.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’m here, mom,” he had reassured her, “It’s okay.”    </p><p> </p><p>A lamp suffused soft light. He drank warm milk, completed a Sudoku and resolved to go back to sleep. It was nineteen years since his father died from a heart attack brought on by digitalis and in all that time, nobody had been able to determine where the foxglove infusion had come from, or where it’s container had gone. His dad had staggered home from a bar with a fresh, sealed bottle of liquor and died before Jared’s mother even finished gossiping with the neighbor to rush in and make his tea. She had told Jared it was the faeries, and the dreams had haunted him ever since. If it hadn’t been faeries then the only rational explanation for his father’s death was a whole different nightmare. </p><p> </p><p>He yawned.<em> I should get a dog, </em> he thought <em> . </em> It could lie by his side at night, and it would be soft to cuddle when he couldn’t sleep. <em> Or a boyfriend, </em> his rebellious mind offered. </p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a glorious day for a road trip. Summer air was heavy and sweet as they motored through country lanes. Jensen tapped his fingers and sang along to Kansas blasting from the stereo while Jared watched the dappled sunlight illuminate his perfect cheekbones and reflect from his shades. He tried to guess where they were headed but the ribbon of blacktop wound in unexpected directions and road signs were sparse. It had been twenty minutes since he last saw a house. He should probably be worried, Chad would say it was the perfect spot for a murder. He didn’t have the energy to be concerned though, he was having too much fun and, as he looked at Jensen,  he had to admit the views were exceptional. </p><p> </p><p>An avenue of stunning red and green beech trees gave the game away. </p><p> </p><p>“Is this Inchcope?” </p><p> </p><p>Jensen gave his best mysterious smile, “Inchcope Gardens have been closed to the public for years.”</p><p> </p><p> A castle turret peeped above a swathe of brightly leaved trees. “Oh, my god, I can see the top of the folly! It is Inchcope! How?”</p><p> </p><p>Jensen tapped his nose. “I am everybody’s favorite fairy godmother. It’s a trade secret.”</p><p> </p><p>Intricate gates opened automatically for them, Jared supposed there must be a camera but it was well hidden. Metalwork bees and poppies gleamed gold in the sun and the shadows thrown by them seemed to dance all around. He shook his head, unable to comprehend that Jensen freakin’ Ackles had organised a private visit to a garden he had always wanted to study. “I thought you were unhappy with me. Why do this? Does it still have it’s lily pond? It used to have the most diverse collection of waterlilies in the U.S.” The motor on his mouth didn’t seem to have an off switch. </p><p> </p><p>Jensen rolled his unicorn to a halt and turned off the engine. “I think,” he said, placing a reassuring hand on Jared’s knee, “That beautiful things can inspire beautiful thoughts, and fear can prevent inspiration. We can explore. You can take photographs, write notes, count lilies, whatever it takes to face your creative block, head-on.” </p><p> </p><p>Jared almost tumbled in his rush to get out of the car. He turned full circle, looking in all directions, toward an arboretum, a Japanese garden, formal rose gardens and a tumbling waterfall that churned sparkling droplets into the air. Then back towards Jensen who regarded him with a serious, perhaps even nervous expression. He wanted him to smile. “Thank you. So much, thank you. Will somebody meet us? Is there a map? Can I hug you?”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“We’ll meet somebody along the way. I know the layout. I can lead.” Jensen said, “And I would love a hug, I mean I’d love more, but I know the deal.” He opened his arms in welcome and Jared smooshed into him. Jensen smelled so good and was so firm. Jared wanted this. He wanted it so much but he had to be realistic, this was only a research trip, yet it was hard to let go.</p><p> </p><p>Jensen patted his back before pulling away with a sigh. “C’mon then. We have lilies to count.” He reached into the car and pulled out a bottle of water each, threw one to Jared. “Stay hydrated.” </p><p> </p><p>It was easy to waste time here, to bask in the cavalcade of bright color, scent and sounds of the garden. He could practically taste the sweet cherries on the still, hot air of the orchard, and the grass bounced thick around fine specimens of Paperbark Maple and Dawn Redwood. He thought that Jensen might get sick of him stopping for photographs and chattering on about rarity and conservation but he kept up with Jared, practically shoulder to shoulder and encouraged him with pointed questions and quiet attention. <em> He was perfect. </em> </p><p> </p><p>The lily pond was huge, with cooling fountains and stepped waterfalls. Myriad bright dragonflies darted and dipped between the reeds and over a vast floating island of delicate water lilies. It was better than any of the old pictures he had seen. Something rainbow-bright flitted past him, bigger than a dragonfly, and too fast to focus on. “Whoa. Pretty! What was that?”</p><p> </p><p>Jensen looked startled, “Um, too quick. Probably a hummingbird. There’s a feeding station through the trees.”  </p><p> </p><p>Jared frowned, “Nah, I know hummingbirds.” <em>What if</em> ... he thought and his stomach churned briefly, <em>but it couldn't be!</em>  He didn’t have time to think about it because, as they rounded a thick patch of reeds he was caught off guard by what he saw next. “Oh!” </p><p> </p><p>A path twisted away from the pond, through shrubberies, to a sparse copse and on to a full sized thatched gardener’s cottage which could have sprung straight from a children’s book. Whimsical wooden animals dotted the journey and its gravel glittered with a sprinkle of shiny bright stones. A quaint sign was driven into the ground at a jaunty angle, </p><p> </p><p><strong>“All the world is made of faith, trust and fairy dust.</strong>”</p><p> </p><p>Beneath the edge of the silver birch copse, among purple flowers of pungently scented thyme, nestled a  tiny wood-carved village of exquisite mushroom homes. A faerie village. </p><p> </p><p>Jared’s knees felt suddenly weak, his heart raced. He tried to breathe steady. He knew it wasn’t real, it was meant to be cute, but his vision was clouding over and he felt dizzy. Jensen was talking but he couldn’t make out the words, maybe “water”.  <em>This couldn’t be happening.</em> “I don’t feel…,” </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>Something cool wiped his brow and he could hear voices talking, low and concerned.</p><p> </p><p>“Sweet tea…”</p><p> </p><p>Light returned slowly and Jared blinked. Jensen was arguing with the slight redhead he had taken off to Las Vegas with, “I didn’t know his reaction would be so extreme, Fli!”</p><p> </p><p>There was another reason she seemed familiar, a distant memory tugging to get loose but he couldn’t place it. </p><p> </p><p>“Optimism can’t solve everything, Jensen!” the woman berated him.</p><p> </p><p>“Sweet tea sounds good,” Jared managed to slur. He tested his limbs by trying to sit up. The woman placed a hand on his chest and gently restrained him. “Take it easy,” she said, “Too much sun, not enough hydration. I told Jensen he should come for tea earlier but he just had to take you the long way around.”</p><p> </p><p>The couch he was lying on was covered with knitted throws, and cat hair, and ‘MrrrEOW!’ Oh, a cat too! He sniffed, what was the smell? Herbs burning? Incense maybe? He looked around. He was in the tiny cottage and it was cluttered with dainty tables, piles of books, dried flowers and bone china. An old fashioned wood burning stove stood in the corner. Holy crap, it looked like he was in a witch’s lair and he might be dinner. He shook off the thought. It was ridiculous.</p><p> </p><p>“Here.” The woman placed a glass of iced tea on the table beside the couch. “I sweetened it with honey from the estate.”</p><p> </p><p>“How are you feeling now?” Jensen asked, like Jared hadn’t fainted, like an idiot, at the sight of a child’s whimzy. </p><p> </p><p>“Did I faint?”</p><p> </p><p>Jensen nodded sympathetically.</p><p> </p><p>Jared groaned, “How did I get here?” He gestured to the couch.</p><p> </p><p>“You were kind of out of it but you came around enough to let me help you.” </p><p> </p><p>His head was clearing and he sat up to sip the tea he’d been given. It was cool and sweet and actually heavenly. “Oh, god that’s good. Thank you ...erm...,”</p><p> </p><p>She smiled at him while kicking Jensen in the shin.</p><p> </p><p>“Ow!”</p><p> </p><p>“If Jensen isn’t going to introduce me, then I shall introduce myself, “I am this dumbass’s sister. My name is Felicia.”</p><p> </p><p>He sat up slowly, taking a better look at her. She had green eyes, like Jensen. “You’re not his personal assistant?”</p><p> </p><p>She laughed, “Certainly not. It would drive me insane, but you’re right, he needs somebody to organize him. I am thrilled to meet you because my brother hasn’t stopped talking about you and your wonderful mind, since he met you. Welcome to my humble abode.” </p><p> </p><p>“This place is yours?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmhm,”</p><p> </p><p>Jared got excited, “You own Inchcope?”</p><p> </p><p>She refilled his tea. “Oh, no, just the cottage. It’s a family thing and I love it. It was here before the main house. There was an agreement, back in eighteen forty two. Sometimes, I take tours and teach herbal remedies. I throw in tea and cakes, and people quite literally eat it up.  </p><p> </p><p>He supposed it all made sense. Quaint historical quackery made money.  </p><p> </p><p>“Did you do the fairy path? It’s cute.” The words practically stuck in his throat. </p><p> </p><p>Felicia and Jensen exchanged a knowing look. </p><p> </p><p>Felicia sucked in breath before speaking, “No. It’s a bit twee for my taste. Faeries are …,” she paused, trying to find the right words, “Fae magic is tricky. I know that times change, everyone moves on, but it isn’t cute. However, reality is not for small children and I am sure Jensen would like to keep his own trail strictly sweet. It is the sort of design that would suit his purpose.” </p><p> </p><p>Jared was either fully awake now, or totally dreaming, “Reality?” he asked slowly, rolling the word in his mouth, as if to taste it. </p><p> </p><p>Felicia nodded, “Reality,” she confirmed. “I’m rubbish at being tactful. Jensen told me about your ‘little problem’. I thought I could help.”</p><p> </p><p>“Problem?” He should be offended but he was intrigued. “How exactly?” </p><p> </p><p>“I research, I dabble. I specialize in folklore.” She picked up a fine china plate and offered him cookies. “I bake too.” </p><p> </p><p>Actually, he was starving, he grabbed one and hungrily devoured it as he processed what he was hearing. He had no idea what to make of it. It could be a prank but she seemed genuine. If she had ideas for the trail based on traditional lore, then things were about to get real bad for him. </p><p> </p><p>“If there’s a perfectly good trail here, and you live here, Felicia, then why are we making a trail at your house, again, Jensen?” he wondered. </p><p> </p><p>“Because I want one and I want it more extensive and much better than this one and I know you can deliver.” His eye roll was unmissable. </p><p> </p><p>“And if we can approach it with facts, care and skill, then perhaps you can face it head on and overcome your fear of faeries.” Felicia spoke as if calming a scared child.</p><p> </p><p>“My fear!” He growled. Now he was annoyed. How dare Jensen gossip about him! “Where do you get off gossiping about me, Jensen! I want to go home now!” </p><p> </p><p>“I was worried about you. Felicia has expertise.” Jensen tried to calm him. </p><p> </p><p>“What! Expertise in faerie studies or whatever? Pull the other one.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I do.” Felicia’s tone was surprisingly soothing, he wanted to believe her. She took two ancient looking books from a shelf and put them on the table beside him. They were both scholarly looking tomes on Fae and Faeries.  Your case interested me, so I researched it.”</p><p> </p><p>“You researched me? That’s just…,” </p><p> </p><p>“Rude.” Jensen finished for him. </p><p> </p><p>“Precisely.” Jared agreed, confused.</p><p> </p><p>“Fli’s like a dog with a bone but I do think she can help. Please listen. This isn’t only because I kind of wonder that if we have another one night stand but at my place, then maybe it doesn’t count and isn't dating? Or if it’s a quickie in the greenhouse, maybe it doesn’t count at all? Is dating entirely off limits? I mean, what would the small print actually be?”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” </p><p> </p><p>“What?” Jensen shrugged back at him. </p><p> </p><p>“Boys!” Felicia scolded, “Let me explain.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared tried to get up, the cat tangled in his legs and he fell back onto the couch with a <em>whump.</em> </p><p> </p><p>“Jared. Whether your mother betrothed you to a faerie or not, may be irrelevant. The fact that you believe she did is enough to prevent you from living a full life. Fae are tricky, as I said. Their spells and contracts, are unique to the person bound by them. They are slippery but they do have rules. They can be reversed. We need to find the key to breaking your betrothal. If there was no deal then nothing will happen and you will be reassured. If you are bound then you will sense the bond breaking and you will be free.”</p><p> </p><p>“Unless it’s an excuse to avoid commitment, or avoid me, which is fine, only tell me,” added Jensen with hands flung defensively in front of him. </p><p> </p><p>“I told you I was joking! It’s not an excuse! I don’t want to avoid you!” Jared yelled. “And, if there wasn’t a contract, then how do I know if a plan works, because nothing will happen either way.” His head hurt just thinking about it. </p><p> </p><p>“Hm,” Jensen and Felicia considered what he said.</p><p> </p><p>“True,” they agreed in unison.</p><p> </p><p>“But you will feel different, I’m sure, “ added Jensen. </p><p> </p><p>Jared finally untangled from the cat. He stood up. “This is stupid,” he said, “I got dehydrated and fainted. It’s been a lovely day and I have a better idea of what you expect for your trail, Jensen. It’s getting late and I have an early start.”</p><p> </p><p>“The unicorn will be really hot, it may not be good for you.” Jensen seemed to be clutching at straws. </p><p> </p><p>“Then we’ll wind down the windows.” He strode out of the door with as much dignity as he could muster. “It was lovely to meet you Felicia. The tea and cookies were great.” </p><p> </p><p>Jensen followed, with a silent grimace at his sister.</p><p> </p><p>Felicia acknowledged his farewell but shoved a piece of folded paper into his hand as he departed. “When you’re ready.” she said, “You need to continue your quest. Contact me.”</p><p> </p><p><em> Crazy. They were crazy. But what did that make him? </em> </p><p> </p><p>Jensen turned the radio to a soft rock station and they rode in awkward silence. </p><p> </p><p>Jared hated silence, he took out his mobile and played Candy Crush. When all his free games were gone he sighed and put it back in his pocket. His fingers touched paper. He took it out and unfolded it. Felicia’s number was written in spidery font, along with a brief explanation of her findings.</p><p> </p><p><b>‘A quest to break a faerie contract is dependent upon honest intent in your heart. If a betrothal has not already been called in, then you must return to where it started, in all ways, and make your request directly to the Faerie Queen. Homage is required. Again, intent, true in the heart, is the key</b>.’ </p><p> </p><p>Well, that sucked. It had all started in a herb garden which no longer existed because his childhood home had been sold to developers and a senior’s complex built on the site. The whole, stupid argument had been for nothing.  </p><p> </p><p>Jensen tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, in time to the music. </p><p> </p><p>The awkwardness grew, it expanded until the car seemed thick with it and then exploded with a  sudden, loud, rendition of ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ as  Jensen sang along to the radio.<br/>
<br/>
Jared couldn’t help himself, his stress dissolved into a chuckle, “Dude!” </p><p> </p><p>“Hey! Don’t knock it! The man sings directly from the hair!” </p><p> </p><p>Jared joined in, tuneless but enthusiastic.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa! You sound like Fli’s cat when you sat on him!”</p><p> </p><p>“I sing it from the hair, too!” </p><p> </p><p>“You do have the hair, mountain man!”</p><p> </p><p>“Not all of us can strut around doing the Blue Steel, Zoolander!” </p><p> </p><p>Jensen imitated a sizzling sound, “Oh, the burn!” </p><p> </p><p>They both giggled. It felt natural. Jared couldn’t stay angry with this idiotic man. He made a show of preening his hair and making a duck face that ended in farting noises.</p><p> </p><p>Jensen laughed until he had tears in his eyes, “Stop it. I have to drive, man. I have to drive!” </p><p> </p><p>Once they had calmed, Jensen asked, “Do you want to skip a turning and come back to mine? I have beer and nachos.”</p><p> </p><p><em> If the herb garden was gone, were its faeries gone too? Could that be the reason that his bride never returned for him? Did he want to spend his life waiting? </em> For the first time in his life he made a decision which defied his mother’s belief, <em>or</em> <em> delusion. </em> “Or, we could make the turning and I can grab my stuff and follow in my truck. I want to map a route for your faerie trail in the morning anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>“Cool.” Jensen gunned the engine to get there sooner.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Jared disentangled his limbs from Jensen at five in the morning, slipped out of bed and into his shorts. He thought Jensen looked beautiful, sleep-mussed and fucked out. He was a good lover, adventurous and considerate, and with the sort of stamina that could really impress a guy. Still, Jared couldn’t sleep, because he was ready for more. Not just sex, though it undoubtedly rocked, but more of <em> Jensen </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Plaster dust was gritty under his bare toes as he paced over floorboards, minding the gaps, on the way to Jensen’s kitchen. He rifled through the fridge and through cupboards until he found everything he needed for pancakes and set about making a stack while a fresh pot of coffee brewed. </p><p> </p><p>The kitchen was far from finished. A rag rug served as the only floor cover, the walls were bare back to brick, and electric wire was neatly taped in loops. Still, it was serviceable and it was clear that Christian had designed it well. The view central to the counter tops was a deep and wide window that faced east, over unkempt vegetable gardens and down to the road with the community woodland beyond it. A pale dusk sky gave way to a burst of blues, orange and pink, and a murder of crows rose from silhouette trees to wheel and caw their greeting to a sun that rose as a dazzling orb of copper. He made a mental note to check his designs. They should pack an impact from here. He resolved to ask for a tour of the house, checking out the view from each room. He should have done it at the beginning and he would kick himself later and learn from his mistake. He cradled his coffee as he took in every last moment and color of the sacred time.</p><p> </p><p>He felt a soft kiss on his bare shoulder and an arm around his waist, “Early bird,” yawned Jensen. “Mm. You made breakfast. Doesn’t that break the rules?”</p><p> </p><p>Jensen poured syrup over his pancakes and was virtually inhaling them before Jared could answer. “We should have this on the terrace,” he said between mouthfuls. That sunrise is awesome. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, we should,” agreed Jared. “Your house, your rules.”</p><p> </p><p>“In that case, we should go back to bed,” he teased with an impish grin. </p><p> </p><p>“I have a reputation to keep, Mr. Ackles, and I suspect you do too. I need to be out of here before workmen arrive.”</p><p> </p><p>Jensen pretended to sulk, “We have,” he looked out at the sun, “about an hour and a half before anybody gets here and anyway, I have a <em> bad </em> reputation <em> .”  </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The man was going to ruin him. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>  Jensen continued,“Never mind. I will concede that yours is upstanding. I will have to respect it.” </p><p> </p><p>He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared would normally be staring at Jensen’s bare chest with his nipples pert in the dawn chill. Instead, his mind raced with hopes and possible consequences. He wanted to take a chance. It was time to throw caution to the wind.  </p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry..”</p><p>“I’m sorry..” they spoke together.</p><p> </p><p><em> This was where his fantasy would be crushed before he even got to the starting post </em>. “You go first,” offered Jared.</p><p> </p><p>Jensen started again, green eyes intently fixed on Jared, “I’m sorry about yesterday. I thought I could come sweeping in and be some sort of hero. The more Fli and I talked about it, the more I got carried away with rescuing you from an evil faerie spell, so you would love me and we would live happily ever after. Or some such crap. Blame my sister, she’s a romantic as well as a scholar.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you’re not romantic?” he replied with a wry grin. </p><p> </p><p>“Maybe a little. But the point is that I stopped thinking about the reality for you. And that was wrong of me. I made you ill. I didn’t stop when I should have backed off. For all of that I apologize.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared warmed his fingers on his mug, trying to find the right words to speak out loud. “You are the first person, ever, to believe me. I have never had anyone offer to help. Except the psychiatric kind, of course. You have no idea how much that means to me. I know that Felicia has put time and effort into researching this, and you too. I was caught off guard and ungrateful. The thing is...and don’t think I am disrespecting your sister’s work," he paused, willing himself to say what he had avoided all his life, “...but the thing is, I think, it’s me. I think that maybe I do need psychiatric help. It means that I have to face a possibility that is unpleasant. I want to clear a path to live my life but if I accept it, it also means that I will lose what I want most right now.” </p><p> </p><p>Jensen’s gaze never left him, “What do you want?”</p><p> </p><p>He could feel his eyes tearing up, “I want to date you.” He put his mug down and turned away, to wipe his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“Hell! I’m down with that!” Jensen seemed genuinely thrilled. “Why do you think I wouldn’t want that?”</p><p> </p><p>Jared ran his hands through his hair so desperately that thick strands came away in his fingers, “It means that my mother killed my father and I am as crazy as she is, for believing her faerie stories.” </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, hey!” Jensen was suddenly by his side, rubbing soothing circles on his back, his skin on Jared’s skin and it felt so good, so comforting. “You were a kid. She’s your mom and whatever trauma you went through, this was how she dealt with it. I am certain she believes it and it was meant with kindness. Of course you believed her. It’s what kids do.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m twenty six, Jensen. I should have grown out of faerie stories years ago. She is delusional. She is in a mental hospital because of those delusions. What the hell was I thinking?” </p><p> </p><p>Jensen pondered his question, for an agonizingly long time. </p><p> </p><p><em> Just say it </em> , he thought, <em> just tell me I’m the loser son of a killer. </em></p><p>   </p><p>He scooted onto the stone bench next to Jared. His warm body pressed against him. "Talk me through it. What were you thinking?”</p><p> </p><p>“Eh?”</p><p> </p><p>“Give me all the reasons that you continued to believe you were betrothed to a faerie. Then we’ll judge if you’re crazy.” </p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“Try it.”</p><p> </p><p>They got dressed and Jensen refreshed their coffee, while Jared tried to order his thoughts. He hadn’t known him long but he was starting to trust him.</p><p> </p><p>Jensen was an attentive listener. Jared described his childhood with his charming but cruel and alcoholic father, and then described the herb garden where they played to escape his father’s attention. He skipped over painful details, they were irrelevant. He told him about the day, when he was seven years old and his father came home drunk and clutching a fresh bottle. His mother had been gossiping with the old lady next door, but dashed in to make his supper as soon as she noticed him. As she rushed into the living room he was already kneeling on the floor, his lips blue and his hand clutched over his chest. He was dead before the ambulance arrived. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Of course, he hadn’t understood much at the time, only that his father was gone and his mother had been taken away in a police car. His grandma had come to collect him and a new normal had begun. He vaguely remembered pulling on his grandma’s hand and insisting that he wanted the faeries to come with him.</p><p> </p><p>“Why do you think you imagined them?” Jensen asked.</p><p> </p><p>“I was an imaginative child, always making up stories - it was a way of hiding from a frightening life - that much I know about child psychology.” </p><p> </p><p>He went on to describe how his mother had spent time in custody before being transferred to a mental health facility and deemed unfit to go to trial. There had been bullying and taunts about her, all through school and Jared had visited her, an angry child looking for answers. Her story never varied - she had asked the faeries in the herb garden to help them and the price was always too high - Jared’s hand in marriage. But things got worse, his dad broke one of Jared's ribs in a fit of rage and soon she no longer believed that he would survive to grow up and marry, unless his father was gone. So, she bargained with the faeries, insisting that they waited until her son’s education was complete. They promised her that he would always have a roof over his head, food on his table and kindness from his bride. When his father had fallen dead, she knew the deal was done and the contract would be called in one day. She despaired over her choice but she could see no way to break it. It fueled a spiral of depression and her medication began to cloud her mind and memory. By the time he was twelve, Jared’s ire had retreated. He knew she had been desperate. He stopped asking questions and came to enjoy his visits with her. He even offered to help when the facility’s management decided that patients would create and maintain their own sensory garden as part of their therapy.  </p><p> </p><p>“I wanted to believe she was innocent,” Jared sighed. He picked tangled hair from his fingers. “I was delusional. What if the crazy is genetic?”</p><p> </p><p>Jensen stayed his hand. “You gotta stop pulling your hair, it’s my job,” he said, lightening the mood.</p><p> </p><p>“Mm. You do it very well,” he gave a brief chuckle. “Anyway, that’s it, I guess. My life betrothed to a faerie, and how I discovered gardening. Do you still want to date this crazy person?” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, yeah!” Jensen growled as he moved in to chuck his chin and steal a coffee flavored kiss. His lips were soft, his tongue perfectly talented and Jared cupped the back of his neck to pull him in, returning it until they were breathless. </p><p> </p><p>When they were done and his lips tingled deliciously with the aftermath, he said he was ready to start the day’s work.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“But you haven’t finished,” insisted Jensen. “There must have been reasons you continued to believe?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I guess I look too deeply. I was always doing research and there is so much lore. One myth even says that dealing with faeries can make a person go crazy. I probably cherry-picked legends and made a story to fit the facts.The kids who bullied me always got detention or some other consequence. Then, whenever things got bad financially, I always pulled through. Our old house was sold to a developer, I got a scholarship, my grandmother left me a small trust fund. I managed to set up this little business and buy a small apartment. Chad could be a douche in school but he’s been there for me and he came along for the ride, which made things easier and more fun. It seemed like something or somebody supernatural was looking out for me. I mean, I never did struggle too much.” He decided not to mention  his dreams, vivid with scent and sound, in which faeries talked in riddles and played hide and go seek with him. They had never seemed significant. And his imaginary animals? Well, all children have imaginary friends.  </p><p> </p><p>“Or maybe you were a loyal friend who worked hard and took whatever chances you were given?”</p><p> </p><p>He pointed at Jensen in agreement, “Maybe. So, it’s time for me to move on.” </p><p> </p><p>“You’re not going on a quest?” Jensen sounded disappointed. </p><p> </p><p>“Even if I wanted to, I can’t. The destination is gone. Therefore, the only quest I am going on, is one to get into your pants at every opportunity!” He swatted Jensen’s ass playfully. “But first, I am going to design the best goddamn faerie trail in the west and children will flock from all around to see it.” </p><p> </p><p>Jensen looked inexplicably concerned, “Consult Fli on it. Let’s keep it respectful.”</p><p> </p><p>“After everything, <em> you </em>still believe in little folk?”</p><p> </p><p>“I believed before I met you, and whether they had a part in your father’s death or not, yes I still believe. Are you gonna have a problem with that?”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded thoughtfully, “Yeah, no, okay, but I told you my story. Next time, you tell me yours.” He grabbed his bag, intending to fling it into his truck before Chad arrived, and made for the door.<br/>
<br/>
It really was a glorious morning. Fluffy clouds sauntered across a duck-egg blue sky and the faintest breeze stirred through long grass and trees. He walked across the wrap-around porch, shading his eyes with his hand to survey the slight incline of the drive to the road. The porch decking dipped underfoot but he barely noticed because a pair of blackbirds chased each other, squabbling over a worm, and further out, by the hedge, a squirrel dashed up an ash tree with a berry in its mouth. There was another movement too, he squinted at a large shadowy figure. “Oh!” Jared gasped, as a white deer, with wide, impressive antlers, stepped into the open and stopped to stare right at him. It was a white hart, magnificent and ethereal. “Jens... “</p><p>CREAK</p><p> </p><p>He thought he heard Jensen swearing just before he fell through the rotten wood of the porch and his ankle cracked with a pain so intense that he blacked out. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <em> It wasn’t fair. He couldn’t bear to let Jensen go.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Jensen clucked about him with gentle touches and gentler words. He had driven them back to Jared’s apartment after the hospital had applied a cast to Jared’s ankle then helped him onto the couch, found his remote and set up his games with a controller to hand. He gave him his meds and produced a chicken broth from goodness knows where. It reminded Jared of something. “Where' d Christian go?” he slurred.</p><p> </p><p>Jensen stopped fussing with  his pillows, “Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’s jus weird. Jus’ *poof* n’ he’s gone.”</p><p> </p><p>“Man, they gave you the good stuff. Chris *poofed* away to cover an event for our mother. She can be difficult but she has a way of getting what she wants and we love her anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, he’s safe.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t he be?”  </p><p> </p><p>Was’t a bet? Him n’you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Jared, we both date who we want to date. I was jealous and pissed with him when I found out but it wasn’t a prank. He likes you, and he doesn’t do relationships. ” Jensen shrugged. “What can I say?, He gets his good looks from my side of the family and his douche-baggery from his father.”</p><p> </p><p>“ ‘kay. But you sh’d go. No datin’. Not safe.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jared, you fell through my porch, which by the way, I feel awful about it and you’ve every right to sue but it did have a huge yellow DANGER sign. “</p><p> </p><p>“No, s’faeries. Not s’posed to date. Please. Go. Please.” His plea was heartfelt, he felt like he was going to cry for real this time and it would be ugly. </p><p> </p><p>“We had this conversation, literally this morning. You told me it wasn’t faeries.”</p><p> </p><p>“S’wrong. S’white stag. Go.”</p><p><br/>
“Jared you’re loopy on meds and I want to respect you, really I do, but you bumped your head on your way down and somebody has to be here. If it makes you feel better to not be dating, then we’re not dating. I am a concerned employer whose gardener fell through my porch floor and I don’t want to be sued. Does that make you feel better?”</p><p> </p><p><em> Good enough, </em> thought Jared, but his heart hurt more than his broken ankle, “ ‘Kay.”</p><p> </p><p>They played FIFA and Jensen won. The strong meds began to wear off and Jared was in pain and distracted. He worried about being useless, wondered where the paperwork was for his insurance and how he was going to complete all the work he had booked. Summer was busy for everyone in the trade. He fretted that something bad might happen to Jensen because he had been selfish and chased his own pleasure, ignoring what he had been warned about, all his life.</p><p> </p><p>Jensen ordered in pizza. “You’re worrying. I can tell,” he spoke between mouthfuls. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know how I am going to do it. It’s just me and Chad. How will we complete the work for you? For anyone?” </p><p> </p><p>“Chad said something about an Aldis Hodge and how his ass should be good for business. He’ll be over later. Also, you are insured, and I am insured.” He leaned close enough for Jared to smell the garlic on his breath, “And I wanted you for your mind, not your body. Somebody needs to pull the strings together on our project.” </p><p> </p><p>Jared had collaborated with Aldis a few times, on civic work, he was a cheerful hard worker with talent for floral art. Chad had made a good choice. He nodded, relieved, “He creates great flowerbeds, if you wanted us to plan anything with a family crest or clock or something.” He had a sudden idea. “We could have flowerbeds in the design of flower fairies for your trail, if you wanted.”</p><p> </p><p>“See! A beautiful mind! Include it.” </p><p> </p><p>He filed the idea away, well aware that he might not be around to complete anything if his faerie contract was called in. He remembered the moose, weeks earlier and the appearance of the white hart had left him in no doubt, he had been given a warning. It wasn’t something to worry Jensen about. To protect him he had to maintain a strict business relationship from now on. </p><p> </p><p>Jensen nagged him to rest. He couldn’t be bothered to try and arrange his plaster cast in his bed so he chose to stay on the sofa and catch whatever sleep he could, while Jensen slept in his bed.</p><p> </p><p>The next day he woke, sweaty and rumpled, from a nightmare in which his father snatched his precious china tea set and berated him for acting like a girl, before smashing it against the wall, until all that was left was a smear of red juice. The smear grew, deepened and dripped until there was nothing but a pool of blood and his father, gasping and blue in the centre. He could almost feel the soft fur of a rabbit in his arms, and somehow he knew it was white, but however hard he looked, he couldn’t see it.</p><p>He remembered the tea set. He had loved it and his father had hated it “because boys shouldn’t play with girl toys”. He was sure his father hadn’t smashed it. In fact, he thought he remembered playing with it, the day his father died. He shook sleep off, he needed a pee and the distance to the toilet seemed a lot further when you were on crutches. </p><p> </p><p>It was already light and Jensen was gone. He’d left Jared’s meds, with a glass of juice and a note, on the kitchen counter. The coffee machine was set up and ready to brew. Jensen had got to know him very quickly. </p><p> </p><p>He unfolded the note, ‘Rest.  Stop worrying, Try not to poke things into your cast to scratch. Fli will be over to work with you.’ </p><p> </p><p>Damnit! Now his ankle itched! He searched for something to sate the maddening impulse and groaned in relief when an old chopstick did the job. “I hate you, Jensen Ackles,” he muttered into an empty kitchen, but of course, he didn’t. </p><p> </p><p>Right on cue, Felicia arrived, with her arms full of books and a flask of home made soup. “How are you, darling?” Her substantial pile of books made a thud as she placed them on his table. She didn’t waste any time in getting to the point. “We can spend an afternoon talking about sparkly stones, wood carvings and flowers, or we can acknowledge the elephant in the room. Jensen told me what happened. If you saw a white stag and you truly believe that it is linked to your betrothal, then I would say that it is essential you face up to it. Once faerie magic is set into motion it can cause devastation. The magic is in the contract and even a faerie is helpless to prevent it without the right steps being taken. Jensen also told me that that you don’t think you can go back for your quest. We may be able to resolve that.”</p><p>“How would you know all that?”</p><p> </p><p>“I read a lot, I study. Magic can never be taken lightly. Faerie magic, doubly so.” </p><p> </p><p>“Are you some sort of witch?”</p><p> </p><p>“Definitely not, though I can weave minor healing spells.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared perked up at that, “Can you fix my ankle?” </p><p> </p><p>“Nature has its own spell for that. Given time, it will knit. I can give you a tincture to hasten it though.” She scribbled a note to remind herself. </p><p> </p><p><em> She’s batshit crazy, </em> he thought, <em> like me</em>, his mind added involuntarily. </p><p> </p><p>She sat heavily on the couch beside him and he winced as his leg was painfully jostled. “Tell me everything. Including the details you didn’t tell Jensen.” </p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“If you’re certain that the white stag is significant then it implies that this is not the first time you have seen one, or at least white animals in general, and I bet they accompanied a life event or turning point.” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> How did she know?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I’m impressed,” he admitted. </p><p> </p><p>“Then let’s not waste time.” </p><p> </p><p>He recounted everything, all over again, this time including the white rabbit which visited during his childhood and the white moose the day he had met Jensen. He described his mother’s ramblings and his own dreams. Felicia took copious notes of it all. He was emotional and exhausted when he finished.</p><p> </p><p>She checked the time and patted him on the back. “You look socked. Have a nap. I am going to read through my notes and do some research.” She tapped her enormous book pile. “Then, we’ll make a plan. No time like the present,” she smiled prettily, before adding mysteriously, “Except maybe, the past.” </p><p> </p><p>This time his sleep was dreamless.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> This was a stupid plan. It was the stupidest thing he had ever done in a long history of stupid.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It had taken the best part of a week to make a plan and Jensen had punched the air with a happy yell of “We’re finishing the quest! I’m going to get a date!” when Felicia and Jared told him.</p><p> </p><p>Felicia reminded him that a date would only happen if Jared’s faerie granted him freedom. It didn’t dull his enthusiasm. </p><p> </p><p>Another week after that, with precious quest supplies sourced and in place, she waved them off with some sort of incantation and a cloud of incense. </p><p> </p><p>So now, here he was, sitting awkwardly in the front seat of Jensen’s unicorn, with his useless leg balanced precariously over the handbrake, the keys in his hand, squinting in the mirrors and all around. He was the lamest look out for the stupidest crime in history. </p><p> </p><p>He could just make out the faint beam of Jensen’s flashlight in the garden of the senior’s complex which had been built on his childhood home. It seemed to be heading back to him. Maybe his heart could stop racing when they finally returned from their fledgling heist. His attention turned back to the road as a car approached slowly, and drew close. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He flashed the Impala’s headlights once and the flashlight clicked off. A security guard leaned out of his window and scrutinised him. Jared tried to rein in his terror to play the frustrated invalid. </p><p> </p><p>“You okay there? This is private property.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared rolled his eyes dramatically. “I’m sorry officer. My partner was so busy fussing over getting me fixed up in the car that we forgot his wallet at Aunty Alice’s.” He gestured weakly in the general direction of the apartment complex and huffed, “And yet he says that <em> she </em>is losing her marbles. She’s probably in her pajamas by now, my ankle is killing me and I really don’t need this. I mean, we could have come back tomorrow, I said we...” </p><p> </p><p>The guard looked fed up, he wasn’t paid to hear anybody’s life story. “Next time, tell your partner to use the visitor parking lot, or you’ll get a ticket.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked suitably contrite, “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir. He’s such an airhead, I said he should…,”</p><p> </p><p>The patrol car sped away. He collapsed back into the leather seat until he could stop shaking. He was a landscaper, he was sure he could have completed this task in daylight, with some gossip to ease his mission, but no, a quest is all about ‘intent’ and Jensen decided that some night time trespassing was called for. </p><p> </p><p>A dog started to bark. It got louder and somewhat snarlier. <em> Uh-oh. </em> He could just make Jensen out now, sprinting like his life depended on it, and maybe it did because, snapping at his heels, was an impressive looking Doberman. He flung a bag from the other side of the security fence and then launched himself up the chain-link to vault over the top. He landed it perfectly, every muscle flexed in the process. <em> A perfect telemark landing. </em>Jared wanted to ravish him right there, in the Impala. He remembered why he had agreed to all of this.</p><p> </p><p>“Move, move, move,” hissed an out of breath Jensen, stashing his bag in the back seat. </p><p> </p><p>He struggled to lift his leg off the handbrake and sit back in the passenger seat, dropping the keys in the footwell in the process. </p><p> </p><p>Jensen stooped to retrieve them. He tutted, “Some getaway driver, you are!”</p><p> </p><p>“Not my idea!” he sniped back, trying to get comfortable. "Why'd you have to provoke a dog?"    </p><p> </p><p>“It’s not a quest without mortal danger, remember?”</p><p> </p><p>The Doberman redoubled it’s howl and salivated over the fence as it tried to bite through. Lights began to show in several windows. </p><p> </p><p>“Crap!” complained Jensen, before finally slamming his door and peeling away from the complex with the Impala at full throttle. </p><p> </p><p>“Subtle!” commented Jared. </p><p> </p><p>“I got the loot!” Jensen pointed at the back seat.</p><p> </p><p>Jared closed his eyes and shook his head, “Are we sure this proxy idea will work? It should be me in mortal danger.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hang on you’re about to be.”</p><p> </p><p>The speedometer needle climbed around the dial at an alarming rate and lamp posts passed in a blur.</p><p> </p><p>“The unicorn is galloping! Gotta be back for the witching hour,” Jensen whooped.</p><p> </p><p> <em> He was enjoying this way too much. </em>  “Not looking for a witch,” he murmured, under his breath. </p><p> </p><p>“Same difference, Jay. You heard what my sister had to say. “  </p><p> </p><p>Back at Jensen’s house, Jared bitched as he pulled on an itchy red tee shirt and some tight fitting blue pants they had obtained from goodwill. The outfit was accompanied by a black cap and canvas deck shoes. He had drawn the line at cutting his hair, but he shaved and then gelled it neatly. It was as close as he could get to what he was wearing the day his father died and it was hellish uncomfortable. Jensen couldn’t look at him but he could tell he was stifling giggles because his shoulders were heaving. </p><p> </p><p>The only thing missing was flowers.</p><p> </p><p> “You looking for these?” Jensen handed him a crushed bunch of daisies that he had picked from the lawn at the senior’s complex.</p><p> </p><p>Jared tried to make a slit in the stem of one, to start a daisy chain but crushed it entirely. He tried another but the task was too fiddly. “Oh god, this used to be so easy, why can’t I do it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, you grew up to be a yeti, with yeti sized fingers? Hang on.” He fished in his pocket and produced a utility knife. “Here, use the tip. Hurry up.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’m trying,” he snapped back.</p><p> </p><p>When he finally had a messy daisy bracelet around his wrist, they laid out everything they would need to finish the quest. Jensen unpacked his loot with pride, “I managed to find thyme, sage, mint, parsley and borage in some old biddy’s pots.” He held up bunches of rooted herbs.</p><p> </p><p>Jared covered his face with his hand in despair, “You dug up some old person’s decorative pots?”</p><p> </p><p>“Eh, they’ll think it was the dog. That dog totally deserves what it gets,” was his nonchalant reply. He held up a sorry scrap of a stem with a single flower, “Lemon verbena was a bitch to find. Nobody was growing it. I thought it was important, based on what your mother said. I found this at the wild edge of the complex. It might actually be descended from your original patch. That has to make it more potent, right?”  </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t have time to wonder how anybody located a wild seedling, in the dark of an unfamiliar place. He held out a plant pot to Jensen, who tipped the bag upside down and poured in the remaining item, several handfuls of soil. Jared packed the soil around the herbs until they were safely planted. Together they looked at a jam jar of water that Felicia had supposedly charged with moon energy. Jared took it, unscrewed the lid and poured it on his miniature herb garden. </p><p> </p><p>With phase one - the journey for knowledge, and phase two - the dangerous acquisition of artefacts, achieved, they were ready for phase three of his quest.  It felt anticlimactic.  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>They checked their supplies for the journey in front of them. They had a lantern (battery powered from Halloween supplies) and some sturdy wooden staffs carefully fashioned from orchard branches by Jared. They didn’t strictly need them but he felt like any mythical quest required them. They each had a leather satchel packed with a sandwich and a bottle of water. Jared carefully added his iPAD, five dollar coins and his mother’s gold wedding ring to his pack. Jensen handed him their map - a plan of his home and its surrounding land, taken from the deeds of the house. They glanced at the clock. It was 11.15 at night. Jared breathed out slow, gathering his strength. He was sure that this quest could not save him, but if it could he would soon come face to face with the faerie who had haunted him his whole life. It was a terrifying prospect. “I’m good, let’s go.”</p><p> </p><p>Phase three was a go, and anything could happen. Or maybe not.This was surely only an elaborate cosplay?</p><p> </p><p>They paused on the terrace, shoulder to shoulder with a staff in each of their grips. Jared carried his childhood herb garden, in a pot, under his arm. He cleared his throat and spoke clearly, an invocation taught to him by Felicia, in a language he didn’t know. He hoped it wasn’t an obscenity. </p><p> </p><p>At that moment the clouds cleared to reveal a full harvest moon that illuminated a silhouette of the orchard which was their destination."If faerie creatures can find you in Ambrose Grove, then your Faerie Queen can be summoned there,"  Felicia had argued.</p><p>A full half hour to journey the grassy plains of the garden might seem excessive, but he had no way of knowing what challenges faced him on the way. He looked around, waiting for some sort of sign.  </p><p> </p><p>The approaching chug of his lawnmower made him jump. “Wait? What? Chad?” The moonlight which suffused the lawn, reflected on it’s shined paint and lit an empty seat. <em> Well then. Either he was dreaming or his quest was real. </em>It came to rest by the terrace, facing the orchard. “I think,” said Jared.  “We’re supposed to get on it.”  Except, every time Jared tried to sit on it, it moved. If they tried to walk instead, it blocked their path. After three attempts he stopped to think.  He couldn’t see any little folk but it had to be under their control. He had an idea. “Oh, we need to pay for safe passage!” </p><p> </p><p>The mower stilled. He got out a dollar and placed it on the seat. The engine stopped. “More?” Jared asked. He put another dollar on top. The engine restarted. Jared got on and sat down, his broken leg jutting out at a ridiculous angle. The dollars had mysteriously disappeared.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, what about me?” Jensen complained. </p><p> </p><p>“Either I’m supposed to go on my own,” started Jared, as the mower began to move, “Or…”</p><p> </p><p>Jensen took a running leap onto the hood and hung on grimly as it picked up speed. “Or I can ride along. I am not letting you do this alone.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, that.”</p><p> </p><p>It only took a few minutes to reach the edge of the orchard. The lawnmower rolled to a stop and they dismounted. In the blink of an eye, it was gone entirely. Jared fervently hoped that it had vanished back to his storage unit where he had put it the day before.</p><p> </p><p>The halo of the lantern picked out child sized mushroom seats around a picnic table, and beside that, a tinier copy. “So, now…,” said Jared.</p><p> </p><p>“We do what all good hobbits do,” said Jensen.</p><p> </p><p>“Second breakfast,” said Jared. </p><p> </p><p>They were big men and the mushroom stools were small yet sturdy. They sat awkwardly and unpacked their sandwiches. One for Jared, one for Jensen and another, a delicate triangle sandwich, which they placed on the tiny table beside them. It didn’t move or disappear. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. He waited for something to happen and something did. </p><p> </p><p>A rabbit hopped right up to the little table. White as snow and as big as a cat, it stared at Jared with bright green, unblinking eyes. It seemed to be waiting for something.</p><p> </p><p>He decided to greet it. “Hi, I remember you.” </p><p> </p><p>And he did! Recollection flooded back. <em> Moments after his father died - silky cloud fur between his fingertips, a sparse comfort for his trauma. Then later, glimpses of huge floppy ears, when his bullies fell and scraped their knees. A twitch-nosed companion in a lonely household. </em> Jared knew the rabbit existed, even as all the adults in his life had denied it. He searched his mind for what came before the rabbit, when precisely it had arrived, and when it had stopped visiting, but there was only fog. </p><p> </p><p>Within minutes, the rabbit had been joined by a wiry squirrel, which dismounted from the branches of a tree in a series of amusing gymnastics. It cocked its head at Jared, daring him to remember days of tears, after his grandma died and the moment he smiled again, at the antics of a ridiculous white squirrel. He acknowledged its presence, “You helped.” </p><p> </p><p>Jensen was oddly quiet. He helped Jared back up and held the lantern to guide him and he didn’t appear at all fazed by the strange company.</p><p> </p><p>The animals crowded at Jared's feet joined by a tiny white shrew, which he was sure he had never seen, but he did remember the patter of little paws, and squeaks from a 'monster' under his childhood bed. He couldn’t help smiling, “Seriously, that was you?”</p><p>He didn’t get an answer. They seemed to want him to follow.  So, this was it, phase four, time to meet his adversary, and it didn’t seem so scary, after all. </p><p>Under the canopy of the fruit trees darkness became velvet black. Late night silence was punctuated by the sigh of leaves in the breeze and the occasional thud of ripe fruit falling to the ground. He squinted at the cool grass at his feet, and with his staff for balance he hopped carefully around mushroom rings, following his ghostly guides until they finally stood at the very edge of the largest ring in the orchard. He blew out slowly. His heart was racing. His whole life rested on his next move and he had no idea how it would play out. It might be the last time he ever saw this world, the last time he ever saw Jensen. He didn’t know if he could go through with it, he only knew that he had to. <br/>
<br/>
His voice trembled, “Here we go then.” </p><p> </p><p>Jensen snatched his elbow and pulled him back into him. He turned to face him, expression earnest, “I need to tell you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me what?”</p><p> </p><p>Jensen frowned, and it almost looked as if he would cry but then his plush lips crashed onto his, a chaste but emotional kiss, “Never mind.” </p><p> </p><p>He licked his lips, tasted Jensen on them.<em> What did it mean? Did this screw it all up? </em>   He wanted it, <em> wanted Jensen</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Felicia’s advice, “It’s all about intent,” came back to him. He stepped away, trying to distance himself. He had to keep his intent on breaking the contract. He couldn’t endanger Jensen.  </p><p> </p><p>Ground shook and leaves parted. A white moose approached with magnificent dignity and it stopped, yards away, watching with intelligent eyes. So, that just left the stag, and his encounter with that hadn’t worked out well.</p><p> </p><p>“I have to go,” he said softly. </p><p> </p><p>Jensen’s eyes glittered, a single tear on his lash. He shooed Jared, “Go. I can’t come with you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know.” He lifted his foot and when he hobbled his next step, he was inside the faerie ring. </p><p> </p><p>On high alert, he turned a full circle waiting for something to happen. Jensen and the animals stood at the very edge of the ring, watching, waiting.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing happened. </p><p> </p><p>He put his pot of stolen herbs down on the clumpy rough grass and placed his remaining dollars, and his mother’s wedding ring with it. Then, he turned on his iPad and scrolled to the design for an elaborate faerie trail. He carefully leaned it up against the pot. The clock on the screen clicked through to midnight, 00.00. He pressed his fingers through the leaves of his herb garden and the scents of thyme, mint and lemon verbena wafted headily in the air. He took a deep breath, the night was too warm for the way his body shivered.</p><p> </p><p>“I come home to pay homage to my Faerie Queen. I come to offer favor.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jared Padalecki!” came a reply, and he whirled around to face a glamorous red headed woman in a shimmering long dress and a white rose crown.</p><p>His mind flashed back to a long distant day. <em> He had a toy teapot in his hand, drops of water glistened on the  leaves of a lemon verbena He breathed its sweet strong scent, giggling in delight at a tiny red-headed figure with iridescent wings as she danced among lacy white flowers. </em></p><p> </p><p>Quest end.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He was under a dazzling spotlight with the Queen, while everything else faded into a black fog around them.</p><p> </p><p>He bowed, “My Queen.”</p><p> </p><p>She rolled her eyes, “Call me Ruth.”</p><p> </p><p>He thought she had a lilting accent, Irish maybe. For some reason it seemed familiar.</p><p> </p><p>She huffed, “Scottish,” she said, “Why does everyone think I sound Irish? I’ll have you know that our branch of the family came over from Glasgow on the Snow Amity in 1716.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Okay, she just read his mind. Concentrate on intent, Jared.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Probably because of leprechauns and folklore and all that stuff. Ireland is more romantic than Glasgow...” He clapped his hand over his mouth, <em>had he really said that out loud?</em></p><p> </p><p>She raised her eyebrows, “Yes, you did.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you really the Faerie Queen?” He couldn’t stop running his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>She preened herself and announced haughtily, “I am indeed a Faerie Queen and I have little time to waste on humans who change their mind.” She glared at him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Uh-oh.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“You bring me homage. You wish to deny my son.”</p><p> </p><p>He did a double take, “Your <em>son</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>She nodded, “Your betrothal displeases you.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>This was not going well.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“That is not for you to judge,” she snapped back at his thought.</p><p> </p><p>He stammered, “It’s not that it displeases me, more that … I don’t know. I was a child. My mother made a promise and I don’t know what is expected of me. I just want to live a normal life, make normal, bad dating decisions,” he paused, Jensen’s kiss still buzzed through his veins, “Maybe good ones too. The point is I would like them to be my decision. I am sorry, so sorry for that. Maybe if your son had come to claim me earlier, it would have worked out, but I waited and waited and now…”</p><p> </p><p>“Now you have found somebody you wish to chance your betrothed heart with?”</p><p> </p><p>He thought his betrothed heart might beat through his ribs with fear. “Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“For that honesty, I applaud you Jared Padalecki. I shall counter it with my own. Our magic is tricky, it requires much study and experience. To use it impetuously, is reckless and dangerous.” She seemed to be looking over Jared’s shoulder as she spoke. There are reasons a final claim was never made.</p><p> </p><p>Hope flared, “So, you can let me go?”</p><p> </p><p>“Reversal magic is more tricky. I cannot simply wave a magic wand. It requires your total honesty.”</p><p> </p><p>She stared into his soul. It felt as if his skin would crawl from his flesh. “You need to return to where it started.”</p><p> </p><p>“I was a child. I don’t remember.”</p><p> </p><p>“You do remember, Jared Padalecki.”</p><p> </p><p>His ankle hurt and darkness closed in on him, whirling in dizzying smoke curls. He leaned heavily on his stick, and he remembered it all.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Red eyes, broken heart, the pain of being ripped from his crying mother. </em><br/>
<em>Sitting opposite a cop in a bare painted room, his teacher by his side, “We think you do remember, Jared.” <br/>
</em><em>Kicking a table leg and yelling, “I don’t! I don’t want to remember!”<br/>
Stroking a white rabbit with his dirty fingertips, the fur softening his focus.</em></p><p>But that wasn’t all. There was a before. <br/>
<br/>
<em>The same fingers smoothing long white ears.</em><em> “Have a cup of tea, bunny.” But his teacup was gone, smashed to the ground in his father’s hand, then spirited away by a trio of cherub faeries with eyes of verbena and borage.</em></p><p>He felt sick. He held his hand up to his face, looked at his big, calloused, yeti fingers and recalled when they were small and mucky with soil.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Mother in the garden, father stumbling into their house in a drunken haze.<br/>
A desperate boy accepting help from tiny playmates.</em><br/>
<em>“You have to promise to marry my brother,” a cherub had laughed, offering a toy teacup for him to snatch away with a careless, "</em><em>I promise.” <br/>
</em><em>Anything to stop the inevitable beating.</em><em><br/>
</em><em>Small fingers shaking as they played ‘bartender’, offering ‘rum’ to his incoherent father who accepted it with a sneer, just amused enough to play along </em>.</p><p>He remembered his mother rushing in to save her husband as he slumped to the floor choking, or maybe to save her confused son, or perhaps even herself.</p><p>
  <em>Faeries flitting about her, their squeaky, panicked whispers at her ear. <br/>
His mother crying out, “Anything! Take it from me, and let my boy live well and be loved."<br/>
A breeze that stirred curtains and flicked papers as a flurry of rainbow wings departed, leaving behind sirens and chaos, flower petals and a white rabbit.  </em>
</p><p>It was all there, every moment of the afternoon when Jared had poisoned his father and signed his own future away.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh god! Oh god! What did I do?”<br/>
<br/>
He collapsed to the cool grass, without a care for the painful jolt to his ankle.<em> It was him. It had been him all along. While everyone had pointed fingers at his mother, while she had suffered in her madness and incarceration, he had escaped justice, and lived a charmed life. He had made the deal he had bitched so royally about. He was a murderer and whatever punishment followed, he deserved it.</em></p><p><br/>
Ruth squatted beside him, “No, you were a child. You were all children. It was my fault - such carelessness. I should not have allowed your interaction. Alas, I like this realm. It is messy and tragic but it satisfies me in a way which endless sunshine, and narcissistic elves cannot." Her crimson-bright lips curved up and she had a faraway look on her face, "And the men are kind of hot," she sighed, and then continued, "I have a weakness to make human children happy and it seemed so innocent, our babies playing together. What could be the harm?" <br/>
<br/>
She shook her head and flicked her long hair,  "I learned my lesson that day. I hoped that Felicia had messed up her spell - she was so young. And I thought if we moved away and let you be, then the magic would fade. But no, as time passed, it only strengthened. My Fli was a natural, and her intent was true. My dear, the contract could only be broken by you.” <br/>
<br/>
She looked beyond him again. “It is time,” she told the ones who lurked at the edge of the circle.</p><p><br/>
The ebony swirl began to clear and a lantern drew close. Christian, Jensen and Felicia stepped into the circle.</p><p><br/>
He looked at their faces, really looked, at Christian’s eyes, Felicia's and then Jensen’s. His mother’s words echoed in his mind, “... <em>blue you see, like borage flowers... … like verbena, such bright green eyes</em>.”</p><p><br/>
Ruth addressed Jensen, while Jared remained broken, struggling to comprehend the enormity of the truth his quest had uncovered.<br/>
<br/>
“Jensen, will you rescind your betrothal to Jared?”</p><p> </p><p>He heard the question, was still processing it when Jensen answered, clear and unwavering, “I release Jared from his betrothal.”</p><p> </p><p>“It is done.”</p><p> </p><p>“No! No! No!” He wailed, but it was too late. He felt something snap within him, like a button popping from a tight shirt. The contract was broken, and with it his heart. All this pain, not for him, but because Jensen did not want to be betrothed to him. He pounded the soil with his hand in despair. He had done enough research over the years to know that the Fae could not be trusted but Jensen had blindsided him, with his looks and his charm. <br/>
<br/>
Deep down he had known though hadn’t he? Chad had warned him and he hadn't listened. His father had charmed his mother, was charming even to his colleagues who never saw what was underneath. Even Felicia and Christian had fooled him. <em>He was an idiot, a dumb killer and his punishment was deserved and unbearable.</em></p><p> </p><p>“You were a child,” Ruth repeated, “And I do not appreciate your old fashioned prejudices. Time moves on, we integrated. We make mistakes like anybody. We have our good and bad folk. We can be quick and intuitive but we are not evil. Felicia played at casting a spell - she was too young to know it could be real. You played with your tea set - you were too young to understand poisons. Jensen did not manipulate you. He agonized over doing the right thing for you.”</p><p> </p><p>He placed where he’d heard her voice. The charity gala!  She actually was Jensen’s mother.  “You’re big faeries,” he mused.</p><p> </p><p>“Big, small, herb garden or house. We’re faeries. We can choose. Most days I choose to be a faerie godmother and I am better than the Disney version. Which reminds me, I have a breakfast date with Prince Charming.” With a wink and a dramatic puff of smoke she shrank to the size of a humming bird and disappeared in a flurry of glittery rainbow wings. He blinked, she was definitely gone.</p><p>“I should probably go too.” Felicia disappeared in her own puff of smoke.</p><p>Jared gulped back tears and sniffed. His entire life was a lie. His love was a lie. Even his friends. He may as well stay here, on the orchard grass until the fruit ripened and rotted, until he was gone with it. Goosebumps covered his skin and he shivered uncontrollably. He had a sudden, stomach curdling thought. “Chad?” he wondered.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, no! No!” Jensen said, firmly. “That boy is nothing to do with us. He is entirely human and every idiot scrape he got you into - entirely his own dumb fault.”</p><p> </p><p>It was a crumb of comfort, he supposed. “Then at least Chad has never lied to me. He’s worth ten of you!” he spat angrily back.</p><p> </p><p>Christian sat on the grass beside him. “I’m sorry. For y’know, my stupid family and everything else.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you?”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Christian looked confused.</p><p> </p><p>“What about you? You could have told me. Did you really want a date with me, or was that part of…” he waved towards Jensen, “...all of your plan for me?”</p><p> </p><p>Christian looked down at the grass and then back to him, making eye contact, “You’re hot, you’re kind and you’re funny, okay? And Felicia never specifically promised you to <em>Jensen </em>. I thought, if the magic was non-specific, then maybe we could have something? I wanted to find out. And why not? You’re both allowed to have fun. I should be allowed to have fun too.”</p><p> </p><p>Jensen made a noise, closely resembling a growl and Christian looked up at him, nervously.</p><p> </p><p>“Only, apparently not, because the whole thing made Jensen ill and mom freaked the fuck out and yanked me to Vegas and sent Jensen back to you. Yeah, mess."</p><p> </p><p>"You didn't get the red-eye from Vegas, did you?" Jared asked Jensen.</p><p> </p><p>Jensen shook his head and shrugged, "No need for it. I mean we do travel normally sometimes, nobody wants to look suspicious, but its so slow."</p><p> </p><p><em>More lies. </em>Jared couldn't hold back the flood of tears any more, fat salty drops rolled down his cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>Christian spoke up again, “I know a good faerie-friendly shrink, if you want their number. For now, I can whip up cocoa and find cookies.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not a child!” Jared snarled at him.</p><p> </p><p>“Leave him alone!” Jensen snarled too.</p><p> </p><p>“Such a jealous ass.” Christian retorted.</p><p> </p><p>Jensen narrowed his eyes and Christian shrank in a poof of cotton candy smoke, turning into a tiny azure-winged faerie. He danced on the sighing breeze, vanishing beyond the pooling light of the lantern.</p><p> </p><p>Alone now within the soft glow, Jensen handed Jared his stick and offered a hand to haul him to his feet, “No,” he told Jared, “You’re not a child. You’re grown man, a good person, but for a moment, back there, it was real again. You were a scared, vulnerable kid who was all out of options.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared wanted to believe him but who kills their own dad? He had been seven years old. He had been in school, he knew not to steal, he understood that hurting people was wrong.</p><p> </p><p>“You asked for protection for yourself and your mother. Anybody would. And Fli wanted to help but she was a child too. We were playing at superheroes. How could any of us have known it would be real? You saved yourself and saved your mother. You were heroic in that moment.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<em>How old does a faerie need to be to know that their magic is real?</em><br/>
<br/>
Despair turned back to rage. Jared refused to take his hand, “You ruined my life! You strung me along yet you couldn’t wait to get rid of me! This whole quest, all of it, you knew what would happen and you were waiting for your chance to ditch me. Everything! The moose, Christian’s date, it’s all been a set up.” He pointed down at his cast, “You magicked up a white stag and broke my ankle just so I would take this quest.”</p><p> </p><p>Jensen pouted, “I only wanted an honest relationship. Your spirit animals have been with you from the start, they were your guides! And the porch timbers were rotten, Jared. I thought you could read.”</p><p> </p><p>“This place? Was the story of your great aunt even real?”</p><p> </p><p>“She was real. This….” Jensen glanced around the orchard, “...was her home.”</p><p> </p><p>He felt small and exhausted. “You talk about honesty but your sort don't know what it means. You're a fake! Everything was a lie!”</p><p> </p><p>Jensen’s shoulder’s drooped and his eyes shone with tears, “Not all of it,” he countered.</p><p> </p><p>“I want to go home. Take me home.” He let Jensen help him up and support him back to the Impala. They didn’t speak. There was no more to be said.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jared didn’t get out of bed in the morning. He switched his phone off, ate gummy bears until he felt sick and tossed and turned in heat-festering sheets. </p><p> </p><p>Whether Felicia had enabled him or not, he had made a plan and carried it out, murdering his own father. He had ruined his mother’s life, even screwed up Jensen’s life, and now his life was over. There was no way that Jensen needed his business, even if he could face him again. Was the house and it’s gardens even real? Probably not. And, if a faerie spell had protected him all this time, then it was no longer in place and things were about to get sticky for him. What would that mean for his mother? He sat bolt upright and flung his sheet off. His mother! He had to check on her! </p><p> </p><p>He rang ahead, shouted at his Uber driver to ‘Hurry up,” and crashed his crutches on shined floors as he rushed to see his mother in the day room at Beechwood. Nurse Anderson looked surprised to see him, but she greeted him warmly. “Jared. How lovely to see you. How strange, we were only talking with the doctor, earlier. He would like to discuss some changes regarding your mother’s treatment. </p><p> </p><p>His heart plummeted into his stomach, “What happened? Is she alright?”</p><p> </p><p>“Better than that,” Nurse Anderson smiled, “But it is for doctor to discuss with you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jared!” His mother welcomed him with bright eyes and a brighter smile. “They say I can come home.” </p><p> </p><p>Nurse Anderson looked shocked, she shook her head at her, “Who told you that?” she asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Jared knows who,” Gemma Padalecki proudly told her.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t as clear cut as his mother had announced but her doctor was optimistic that a new treatment had seen incredible progress. The gears were turning at state level to have her released if Jared could prove he had adequate home care for her. It should be good news. It was good news, he corrected himself. He only had to find the resources to make it happen, and without the Ackles contract he had no idea how he would manage. For that matter, how was he going to explain a disappearing mansion to Chad and Aldis?  </p><p> </p><p>He asked his driver to take a detour down Ambrose Grove on the way home. He blinked at the sight, squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. The Ackles Mansion was exactly as it had been the day before - tradesman’s trucks lined the drive and a scaffold was being erected on the north wing. He didn’t know how or why everything was still in place but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. If it was still there, he still had a contract, and he could be professional. For his mother’s sake he had to be.</p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Flowers started arriving. Or rather, plants, because of course the bastard wouldn’t send anything that he could put in the trash. He couldn’t punish a living organism for Jensen’s faults, so his apartment was starting to look like the exotics section of a garden center. He stepped around a four foot variegated monstera plant that arrived yesterday to open his door to a delivery girl proffering a cute and beautifully presented lucky bamboo. He wanted to snap at her and tell her to take it back but she had done nothing wrong and every small business deserved a boost. He pasted on his best fake smile, told her it was lovely, tipped her and closed the door. He returned to his resting frown- face and placed the lucky bamboo with it’s ‘Call me?” card on a crowded shelf next to a Carnelian Bonsai from three days earlier with its “I’m sorry,” card.</p><p> </p><p>A maddening itch in his ankle became unbearable. He could hardly wait until next week when his cast was removed. He considered a small phial of clear liquid that had arrived with a card from Felicia, picked it up and threw it in the bin. Then he poked a garden stake into the gap between his leg and his cast and scratched until it stung. He could almost hear Jensen’s voice telling him not to and his soft, elegant hand, staying his own hand until the urge passed. He had to stop thinking these things. It was over. He would never have that again. </p><p> </p><p>The doorbell rang once more. He stomped with one crutch to open it, glowering because it was undoubtedly Chad, come to nag him about personal hygiene and the need to stay in touch. Jared was still working, damnit!  Aldis and Chad had a schedule and he was finalizing designs, placing orders and managing sub contractors. He even had shelves of seedlings on his balcony. In fact Padalecki Landscaping Services had gained four new clients, a Facebook page and an Instagram account, <em> and </em> the book keeping was entirely up to date. He was rocking office work. </p><p> </p><p>The mailman recoiled from the angry, smelly, caveman who flung the door open and bellowed “What now!” </p><p> </p><p>“I need a signature,” he squeaked at Jared, proffering a very official looking envelope. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oops. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah sure.” He signed meekly with an apologetic glance at the poor man. </p><p> </p><p>‘Tooley and Sons, Attorneys at Law.’ He turned it over thoughtfully. Could somebody be suing him? Was there a debt he hadn’t paid? He put it to one side, he didn’t think he could face it straight away.</p><p> </p><p>He spent the evening, the same way he had for the past week. Ramen noodles, canned fruit, Candy Crush and then scrolling through YouTube for glimpses of Jensen in old footage on the Dream Faeries Channel. He always looked good in a tux and the whole freakin’ family featured in the wishes. Ruth, Christian, Felicia and Jensen appeared wholesome, charitable and kind. Jensen flirted with everybody but never seemed to be with anybody. And yeah, of course it was edited but there wasn’t a hint of anything untoward.</p><p> </p><p>Chad called, they hadn’t been out for weeks and the weather was perfect. </p><p> </p><p>“No,” he replied. </p><p> </p><p>Jo grabbed the phone from her boyfriend and begged Jared to go for a drink with Chad because he was annoying the hell out of her being home every night. Anyway, they were both worried about him. Did he want to come over for dinner? </p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good,” Chad rode straight over his objections. “BBQ at our place, tomorrow evening. Bring beer.”</p><p> </p><p>“We have an announcement,” yelled Jo excitedly, in the background.</p><p> </p><p>Jared groaned, he knew he couldn’t refuse.</p><p> </p><p>He hopped to the fridge for some Ben and Jerry’s. It was all so unfair.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Jared believed in being fashionably late, so the party was in full swing by the time he arrived. Everyone was comfortably relaxed, any awkward introductions to Chad’s raucous family were over, and food was already cooked. It was excellent planning. Except...</p><p> </p><p>“You’re late.” snapped Jo, “We thought you’d cried off.  Everybody has been waiting for you.”</p><p> </p><p><em> Okay then</em>. He put a crate of beer on the buffet table and shoved a huge bouquet of flowers into her hands but continued to grip an envelope. “Hi, sorry,” he said brightly and proceeded to point at his cast which he hoped would be his ‘get out of jail free’ card.</p><p> </p><p>No such luck, everyone turned to look at him and he could see Chad’s mother tutting him. </p><p> </p><p>“Everybody!” Jo shouted, and chatting ceased, “Chad and I have an announcement!” She lifted her left hand to flash a fancy looking diamond ring.</p><p> </p><p>Chad snaked his hand around her waist to pull her close. “Save the date!” he yelled. </p><p> </p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, Jared saw someone shaking a bottle of champagne. They got closer to the happy couple until he could see them clearly - Jensen freakin’ Ackles! He reined in his anger, this was Chad’s big day, but seriously? Chad didn’t even like him. </p><p> </p><p>“Next July 4th, Jensen is setting up a marquee and letting us use his terrace. We will be tying the knot and there will flowers and fireworks! It’s going to be so pretty!” Jo squealed excitedly. </p><p> </p><p>“And beer!” Chad added, to the loud cheer of his family. </p><p> </p><p><em> No, oh no! </em>  Jared barely had time to think before a cool spray of sticky-sweet champagne drifted and settled over him. Everybody clapped and there was the clink of glasses. He ignored the celebration, looking dolefully down at his new pink striped shirt and sweeping ugly yellow droplets off with his fingers. Ugh!</p><p> </p><p>“You could always take it off,” Jensen suggested unhelpfully, suddenly by his side, peering  down the neck of the champagne bottle and then shaking the dregs into a champagne glass for  him.   </p><p> </p><p>Jared glared at him and handed the glass back. Elegant fingers wrapped around the stem and he could see the freckles on them. <em> Talented fingers </em>, he remembered fondly, before throwing the thought off for a sulky, “I’ll get a beer, thanks!”  </p><p> </p><p>“You’re angry with me, I get it…”</p><p> </p><p>Jared was sure he didn’t care what Jensen had to say, he stalked off, to the kitchen to grab a Bud from an ice bucket. </p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t alone there for long. Aldis high fived him as he slunk in to raid the beer supply, “Hey, man! Been a while. Thought you might be too good to mix with the hired labor. But here you are sneaking the poor man’s nectar with me. Aren’t you going to give Chad your card?” He pointed to the envelope he was holding. Jared had forgotten it in the heat of the moment and now it’s contents seemed pretty lame. Jensen had gifted Chad an entire freakin’ wedding venue and probably tonight’s champagne. He crumpled it in his hand. “It’s nothing.”</p><p> </p><p>Aldis took a long chug of cool beer and wiped his mouth with his hand. “Are you gonna be healed up soon? I hate to say it, but we miss you, I mean we’re real good, but man, the gardens miss you. You got instinct.” He air-toasted the bottle at Jared. </p><p> </p><p>Jared gathered himself together, he couldn’t let Jensen ruin this evening for him. His best friend was getting married! Holy crap! He never imagined Chad would marry before him. When they first met he had been sure his life would end as a faerie slave at 21. And it hadn’t. His mother was coming home and he had a whole life and career ahead of him. It was daunting. He decided there was something else he should  do, while Aldis was here. “I have a week of this cast and then physio. You will manage without me. Chad has everything under control, our order book is full, and Aldis, my dude, you have flair! I was actually wondering if you would stay on with us, when I’m better.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you offering me a job?”</p><p> </p><p>“ I think I am, or a long term contract. Think it over. Get back to me, yeah?” </p><p> </p><p>“Sound! I will.” Aldis saluted him but he was already moving, his roving eyes on a pretty lady passing by, “Gotta go and take my chances.”</p><p> </p><p>Alone again, Jared huffed. He grabbed a slice of cake, laid out for later, and stuffed it into his mouth whole, so when Chad walked in he was squirrel cheeked and looking guilty.</p><p> </p><p>Chad shut the door and hauled his ass up to sit on the breakfast bar. “You think I’m doing the wrong thing. Do you think I’m doing the wrong thing? Is it too soon? I mean, I love her, more than life, but maybe I’m not ready. Maybe there is somebody better for her, better for me? What if I can’t live up to all the flowers and fireworks? But then I think about what you said about coming home to someone, having a partner to laugh with, and I think you’re right. ” </p><p> </p><p>Jared chewed aggressively and swallowed with a gulp. “What? No! You’re perfect for each other.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then why so glum?” Chad asked him.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I don’t know, just, everything is weird. You were my best mate and I have nothing to offer you and Jo, and <strong><em>he</em></strong> …” he grated his teeth and snarled as he pointed vaguely to the door, “He has everything! I didn’t think you even liked him!”</p><p> </p><p>Chad frowned, “Jared, I am your best mate and I have always liked Aldis. What has got into you?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, not him. <strong>HIM</strong>!” Jared couldn’t bring himself to even say his name. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh!” Chad slapped his hand against the kitchen counter, “ I get it! You’re jealous. Jealous and bitter, and screwed up by whatever pain meds you are taking.”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” defended Jared with a pout. “Am not.” <em> But maybe he was, just a little. </em></p><p><br/>
<br/>
“Good. Because since you were injured, Aldis and I have been coping with the Ackles Estate, with zero input from you. I have had to accept whatever help has been offered by Jensen and let me tell you, he’s been solid. Whenever he is at home, he helps to lift, carry, dig and clear nettles. He has listened to me venting and offered his house as our wedding venue, because god knows I can’t afford what Jo was looking at. Whatever happened between you, he has been humble and never once complained or threatened to fire our asses. All this time I’ve been looking forward to you getting better because I thought, <em> this project rocks and Jared is going to create great things with this man </em>. But no, you can’t see past your green haze and what’s in your pants. I’m disappointed with you, man. I was excited about asking you to be my Best Man but I don’t even know if you’d want that any more.” </p><p> </p><p>“You want me to be your Best Man? Of course I want to be your Best Man!” </p><p> </p><p>“Well, duh! And I want our wedding to show off your amazing garden design to the world. Think of the photo opportunities, all the soft focus romance shots and the publicity! We are on a roll. Whatever happened with Jensen, I can tell he regrets it. You are all he talks about. Bury the hatchet, man! Padalecki Landscaping Services is on the SkyTrain.” </p><p> </p><p>Jared couldn't mirror his enthusiasm. “He lied to me.”</p><p> </p><p>“He told me. Not what the lie was. Only that he regretted it and that he should have known better. He seems genuine. At least come up to the house to look at our progress. Remember what this project means to you.” </p><p> </p><p>“And Jo?”</p><p> </p><p>“Jo loves you but she’s tearing her hair out because she can see that you’re unhappy, and Jared, she’s going to be pissed at you if her hair isn’t perfect on her wedding day.” </p><p> </p><p>That raised the slightest smile from him. He awkwardly offered his crumpled envelope to Chad, “Anyway, you’re right. I’m sorry. Maybe I got stir crazy. You’ve been holding down the fort as usual. I had our attorneys draw this up but it isn’t set in stone. If you don’t want it, don’t sign it. I know, back when we started out, you didn’t want paperwork and responsibility, and it’s all been pretty shaky at times but you are going to be a respectable family man. Maybe it’s time to rethink our business structure.”</p><p> </p><p>Chad ripped the envelope open and scanned the document within. A smile spread huge on his face, “Partner! Oh, man. Jo is going to be so pumped. Yes. I think we should do it. But…”</p><p> </p><p>“But what?”  </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Chad dangled the enclosed logo design from his fingertips. “Jesus Christ, Jared. Really?”</p><p> </p><p>He looked at the motif he had created with ‘JC’ lettering on a flowery background. “What’s wrong with it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Jesus. Christ.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared caught on. He facepalmed. “I thought, Jared and Chad.”</p><p> </p><p>Chad shook his head, “You need a partner if this is your idea of re-branding.” </p><p> </p><p>Jared laughed and for the first time in weeks, it felt good. He was starting a new chapter in his life and he was totally in control of his own destiny. When Chad went to find Jo, Jared decided it was time to bite the bullet and make some peace with Jensen but Jensen had already made his excuses and left the party.  He resolved to do it the next day.</p><p>   </p><p>Jared was happy-drunk and optimistic when he got home. He was in control. He could face anything. He reached for the envelope sitting on his desk. He sliced it neatly open and started to read:- </p><p> </p><p><em> Regarding the estate of the late Mr Spendlethift Snr of 35, Ambrose Grove. </em> </p><p> </p><p>Oh, this! This was too much! In an act of cowardice he resolved to meet with the attorney before confronting Jensen. He rang Tooley’s office first thing the next morning and made an appointment. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Several hours after Jared finally had his cast removed, Mr. Tooley himself met with him. They drove to Ambrose Grove, all the while exchanging fond memories of Mr. Spendlethift Snr. The attorney apologized that Jared had not received an invitation to his funeral. Spendlethift Jnr was supposed to hand deliver it, but his true character had gradually become clear and by then it seemed that Tooley had been thrilled to drop the bombshell that the house was bequeathed to Jared.</p><p> </p><p>Apparently, before his death, Mr. Spendlethift Snr had mailed copious notes to him, detailing what he owed Jared, and lists of who had helped him in recent years. According to the recently deceased man, three calls from his own children, in the last year, two of them asking for money, was no basis for an inheritance. His family would have stocks, shares and family mementos, his cleaner had been given a generous sum and Jared would have the rest. It was subject to probate but with Mr. Spendlethift’s written testimony, any contest to the will was unlikely to succeed. </p><p> </p><p>The house was not as grand as Jensen’s, but  it was still a freakin’ mansion.  Jared felt like a fraud. Yes, Spendlethift’s kids seemed selfish, but they were flesh and blood. He knew this shouldn’t have happened and didn’t know how to proceed. He stayed respectful and nodded along with Tooley’s commentary. When they were done, he was going to accept the offer of a ride home, but then he saw it - Jensen’s unicorn -  gleaming as it turned into the Ackles driveway.</p><p> </p><p>He forced a smile and waved the attorney away. “I’m good.” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Oh, he had words to say to a deceitful, meddling, faerie!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>It was a lot further to walk on his newly liberated and tightly bandaged ankle than he had thought. He met Chad half way up the drive, where he was clearing weeds.<br/><br/></p><p>“Jared? Dude?” </p><p> </p><p>He held his hand up, “Do NOT try to stop me.”</p><p> </p><p>Chad backed off and trailed a few feet behind him, with obvious concern </p><p> </p><p>By the time he reached Ackles’ door he was in bright hot pain, sweaty and furious. </p><p> </p><p>Contractors parted like the Red Sea on his crusade to find Jensen.  </p><p> </p><p>He cornered him in the kitchen. Jensen stood with his back to him, at the counter, his own mail in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. His jeans fit just-so, and his shoulders flexed visibly under a taut designer shirt. His hair was perfectly styled, to show off his biteable neck and the familiar freckles around the tip of his ear seemed to glow in the early afternoon light. How did he get to be so perfect when Jared was a mess? </p><p> </p><p>Jared didn’t waste time with niceties, “Where do you get off meddling in my life, Jensen? Spendlethift had a family. What the hell is wrong with you? You lied, you dumped me. Now this, when we no longer even have a bond,” he used air quotes for the word ‘bond’. “How dare you!” He slammed the Spendlethift documents onto the counter.  </p><p> </p><p>Jensen swung around, wide eyed and in obvious shock at the venom being directed at him. “Jared, whoa! Well, hi to you too. I would hardly call a few flowers, meddling. Inappropriate possibly.” </p><p> </p><p>“This,” he banged his forefinger down on the documents, “This is not a few plants. This is magic and meddling! It harms people.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ssh!” Jensen placed a finger on his lips. “Do you want everybody to know?” He moved to the kitchen door and slammed it shut. “Let’s keep it professional.”</p><p> </p><p>“Professional? Well, maybe they should know what they are working with. You have cheated a grieving family out of their rightful inheritance.” </p><p> </p><p>He looked genuinely confused, “I did what? I have done nothing of the sort. Why would I do that?” </p><p> </p><p>It was actually a good question. Jared didn’t have an answer. “Because …,”  he paused, “You are a faerie, you meddle.” </p><p> </p><p>“Well that is prejudiced!” Jensen snatched the documents from him. “Give me those!”  He pointed to the fridge, “Grab a lemonade and some painkillers and sit down, you look awful.” Jensen was freakishly composed. </p><p> </p><p>Now Jared thought about it, his emotions were starting to settle and he was suddenly drained of energy. He really did need a drink and to rest. He obeyed. </p><p> </p><p>Jensen studied the Spendlethift papers, taking time to read each word and cross reference paragraphs. It wasn’t the act of a guilty man (or faerie). When he was done, he sighed and sat in the seat opposite Jared. He looked directly at him as he spoke, “You’re right. There is magic in the inheritance. It is the most powerful and ancient of all magic.” </p><p> </p><p>“But it isn’t your spell?” He thought the freckles on Jensen’s nose were distracting, he wanted to kiss them. </p><p> </p><p>“No, it’s not faerie magic.” Jensen took his hand, gently squeezing reassurance. “It is your magic. All of this is you. You weaved kindness into every encounter with the man. You cared for him. You showed him love. There was no fraud. You did not cheat. Love, in the end, is the greatest magic of all. This is who you are and it is why you work miracles. It is why plants grow for you. It is why I love you.” The last sentence was spoken in a rush, barely audible. </p><p> </p><p>Huh. “You what?”</p><p> </p><p>He looked so sad and earnest, “How have you not got the message yet, Jared?”</p><p> </p><p>“You broke off our engagement! You could have ended the quest. Hell, we didn’t need to start it! It could have been ordinary with sex, movies and therapy. I wouldn’t have known anything.” </p><p> </p><p>“Of course we had to take the quest. Every fiber of my soul wanted to deny you the reversal but it wouldn’t be right. Arranged marriages with humans are cruel, a relic of old days. I would never know what was real and what was magic. It would all end in ruin,”  he gestured to the house, “...again.”</p><p> </p><p>“How could it be cruel if I never found out? Wait a minute -  your great, great, aunt - was there a spell?”</p><p> </p><p>Jensen nodded sadly, “When lust wore away, there was no love, only a terrible, unbreakable bond. So, they wasted away, and the house with it. In the end, she cast a glamor, so none would see them, or the house, until death did them part.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not her and I am not the man of the house. Felicia said that every contract was unique,” Jared argued.</p><p> </p><p>“I know. And all your life you dreaded it coming due, and in the circle you spoke for yourself, your own truth, You said -  <em> I just want to live a normal life, make normal, bad dating decisions. Maybe good ones too. The point is I would like them to be my decision </em> - Those were good, honest words, Jared. I could not deny them. And now I must accept the truth that what you felt was magic, not real. That’s my problem and I see how inappropriate I have been. For that I am sorry. I have tried to say sorry every day but I didn’t know how to get through to you.” He released Jared’s hand, got up and put his mug in the sink. He wouldn’t look at Jared, his voice shook. “There will be no more gifts. I will not make you stay and work for me. You will be a rich man in your own right. A neighbor. You will date the wrong men and maybe one day, the right one. It will be your own decision.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Jensen was absolutely right. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Jared stood up. “You’re right. I can make my own decisions. I can keep the client with the awesome legacy garden, I can have one night stands, I can date. I can introduce my date to my mother, or whisk my love away for a romantic weekend. We could get a dog or cat or a parrot. We could argue and make up.” He was now directly behind Jensen, who was silent except for a suspiciously sad sniffle. He spun him around by his shoulder and crowded him against the deep vintage sink. He leaned down face to face, until their lips touched, Jensen’s tearful eyes widened in surprise. </p><p> </p><p>“I could practice making decisions by asking you for a one night stand,” suggested Jared.</p><p> </p><p>Jensen’s face lit up with hope, “You could,” he agreed.</p><p> </p><p>He hooked his huge yeti hand around the back of Jensen’s neck and caressed the pressure point under his ear. He felt Jensen shiver, “And if we happened to break the rules, we might decide to date.”</p><p> </p><p>He  groaned, “Oh, yeah!” </p><p> </p><p>Jensen tasted of summer days and peppermint. His body ground perfectly into Jared’s and the noises he made as they kissed, were pornographic. Jared hooked his fingers around his belt and pulled him out of the kitchen, towards the bedroom. He limped and hopped his progress and banged his head on a loose door jamb as a joiner jumped out of their path. He yelped but he wasn’t slowing down. </p><p> </p><p>“Early finish for everybody, on me,” yelled Jensen to anyone in earshot. Tools were laid down and the house became eerily silent before a ripple of applause started with Chad and grew in a crescendo with wolf whistles and cheers from all corners.</p><p> </p><p> “Fuck my life, fuck professionalism, fuck me,” Jensen declared as he stumbled after Jared into the bedroom. He tripped on a loose copper pipe and fell face first, bouncing on the on the soft landing of his own bed.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I can work with that,” grinned Jared. He stripped off his shirt with enthusiastic flair,  “ Let’s break some rules!” </p><p> </p><p>
  
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title 'Past the Garden Shed and Straight Ahead' is inspired by this little old song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4RsSkinxpac which seemed so appropriate! </p><p>Comments are candy for my soul.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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